


Disambiguation

by PallasPerilous, thatpeculiarone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Sigils, Warning: Mentions of Blood, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 16:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19177375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PallasPerilous/pseuds/PallasPerilous, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpeculiarone/pseuds/thatpeculiarone
Summary: It happened in a split second.One minute, Dean was looking at him - the next, he was on the floor a few feet away.Dean is attacked by a witch on a hunt, causing him to fall comatose and his memories to be erased. Dean spends his time unconscious reliving his life, building memories back together and seeing things from a new perspective. Meanwhile, Cas and Sam race the clock in order to try and save Dean, with many dead ends along the way. As time begins to run out, Cas realises it may be too late for him to tell Dean how he truly feels.Cue: An angsty two-weeks in the Men of Letters bunker.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for deciding to click on this story and read it - I truly appreciate.
> 
> This is my second year doing Reversebang and boy, was it just as exciting as the last!
> 
> First and foremost, I have to thank the amazing [PallasPerilous](https://pallasperilous.tumblr.com)  
> for her wonderful, amazing art that sparked this whole story! I was drawn to it almost immediately upon seeing it and was suuuuuper lucky to get it! So before you read this story, make sure you check out her amazing art [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19177288)!
> 
> Secondly, I would like to thank [Ari](https://willowywings.tumblr.com)  
> for helping me with my storyline/outline of my fic! And [Phoenixaeris](https://phoenixaeris.tumblr.com)  
> for beta'ing!
> 
> Finally, thank you again to Jojo and Muse for your hard work and being completely understanding!! You guys rock and I can't wait to continue to work with you!! 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy!!

****

 

**Day 1**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

“Fucking hate witches.” Dean grumbled, following the light of his torch through the dark space. The sound of his boots clomping against the ground echoed loudly around them.

 

 _“Dean.”_ Cas whispered harshly from somewhere behind him. It was too dark to see his face but Dean could practically _hear_ the expression Cas was wearing. He saw it almost everyday - the disgruntled, judging gaze he frequently aimed in Dean’s direction. With a sigh, he made an effort to quiet his footsteps.

 

The two of them, along with Sam, spent the last five days in Fort Wayne, Indiana investigating a case of comatose patients. Three people in a week had fallen into sudden unconscious states, with no explanation as to why. The doctors told them that all the tests were clean apart from a set of mysterious cuts on each of their chests, all similar in size and pattern. It was those cuts that led the three of them to conclude it was witchcraft, especially because Cas - the angel - was unable to heal them. Dean remembered watching Cas use what the brothers had dubbed as his “angel mojo” on the patient and the way his face pinched in determination.  Dean remembered watching Cas step back with a frown, telling the brothers that he could see nothing but black. It was then they realised whatever witch they were up against, was using stronger magic than what they had previously seen.

 

After a few days of research, two more reported comas and a tracking spell, the three of them ended up locating the witch. The curse they had used was still unknown, even to Cas. It was old magic, Cas had said, dark magic. It looked as if it’d been around for millennia, from a time when Earth itself was created. They had no idea what the curse _was_ but they had an idea of how to stop it. The tracking spell led them to an abandoned warehouse off of the St. Joseph river, in an old industrial area of the city. Upon arriving, they had split off. Sam went one way, Cas and Dean another. It was the best way they knew to corner the witch and not leave any path untaken.

 

They moved through the warehouse slowly, through pillars of cement blocks and abandoned machinery. As they neared a corner, Dean indicated subtly to his right with his gun. He watched as Cas moved closer to his left. In a swift movement, the two of them moved around the bend to another long passage of darkness. With Dean’s torch lighting the way, they continued along in an attempt to either locate the witch, or make it out to the other side.

 

It was here that Dean made the mistake of turning to look at his friend. He didn’t know whether it was a gut instinct for Cas’ safety or because he heard some sort of noise, but he turned his head to try and spot Cas in the dark. It was then that he missed the movement of a figure in the black of their surroundings.

 

He barely heard Cas’ warning cry before he was thrown backwards - catapulted in the air and into a large wall a few feet away. He hit the wall with a _crack!_ Hissing at the sharp pain that shot through his whole body. With a groan he fell to the ground, curling in on himself as searing agony continued to rear its ugly head. He only had a few moments of silence before footsteps approached. With hazy eyes, he looked up to see a woman standing before him. Even in the dim-lit room, he could see the malicious grin spread across her lips. She leant over him, pushing firmly on his shoulder so that he rolled onto his back. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it upwards so that it exposed his bare torso. Dean shivered as the woman pressed the cool steel of a blade to his chest, right near his heart. It was then that he looked in her eyes, her cruel blank eyes, and knew that it was over for him.

 

She leant in and whispered softly, “You shouldn’t have come here, Dean Winchester.”

 

And before he could even respond, he felt the darkness take him.

  


**_Cas._ **

 

It happened in a split second.

 

One minute, Dean was looking at him - the next, he was on the floor a few feet away.

 

Cas had seen the witch move in the dark, just as Dean wasn’t concentrating on what was in front of him. Cas had called: “Watch out!” but it had been too late. He just had to stand motionless as his friend flew through the air and straight into a nearby wall. He immediately went to move as his manifested blade was securely in his hand. Yet, he was frozen to the spot. He stared as the witch walked past him, obviously keeping him locked in place through some sort of hex. He knew this witch was strong and overly powerful, the curse she had placed on the five victims was enough for him to deduce that. Yet, he never thought she’d be _so_ powerful that she’d be able to keep an angel from fighting.

 

He had nothing to do but watch in fear as the woman approached Dean, who laid limp on the floor. He realised that the witch must have led her victims to fall prey to her through her looks. She was a petite young woman, with blonde curls and round eyes. She was the picturesque stereotype of innocence - one that most humans wouldn’t suspect. Cas assumed that she used that to her advantage.

 

He watched as the creature leant over Dean’s body and manifested a blade, like Cas did his. He began to struggle against the invisible force, pulling his grace from inside him and projecting it as far as it could go. He could feel it chipping away, working against the barrier that kept him rooted on the spot. However, it was like chipping at ice with a sewing needle - not every effective.

 

He had no idea how much time had passed by the time he broke free from the hex, but all he knew was that it was too late. As he turned towards the witch’s direction, he saw the blade covered in blood and Dean’s chest carved with a sigil. The witch was smiling gleefully, proud of her work. She stood up and turned her direction back to Cas, bubbles of laughter escaping her lips.

 

“It’s too late.” She cackled. “You’re too --”

 

Yet before she could finish, Cas was already in front of her with his hand to her head. He never got enjoyment from smiting creatures -- it had always been his job. Most of the time, it was a mechanical procedure for him -- quick and easy, in and out. However, he felt a small sense of joy from watching the witch before him burn. She deserved it after what she did to all those people, for what she had just done to Dean.

 

He watched as the final wisp of light escaped from her and he pulled his hand away. The witch’s lifeless body dropped to the floor, her once round eyes now gaping black holes. He paid no mind to her though and raced straight to Dean, his friend unconscious and unmoving on the floor. He brought two fingers to Dean’s forehead, letting his grace flood through him and into Dean’s mind. He had hoped somehow that Dean wouldn’t be like the other cases, that his mind would still be repairable. Yet, it was the same situation. Dean’s mind was blank, empty. There was nothing for Cas to fix and nothing for him to see.

 

He removed his grace in defeat, just as Sam came running over from the other side before him. He took in the site before him - from his brother unconscious and bleeding to the dead witch with no eyes. He turned to look at Cas, frozen in disbelief, and swallowed hard.

 

“Cas… what happened?”

 

He knew Sam was looking for the rundown, wanting Cas to relay the entire events of the last two minutes to him. Though all he could do was look at Dean, who he had failed to save, and feel completely and utterly lost.

 

“I don’t know.” He said to Sam.

 

“But we’re going to find out.”


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Note:** This story is set in an AU version of Season 10. Mostly the same circumstances have occurred except No MOC!Dean. Also no Rowena!!

**Day 2**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

It’s black… all that surrounds them is black. There’s nothing familiar, nothing that they can place. They don’t know where they are. They don’t know who they are. They are just… nothing.

 

Why are they here? Why is there nothing surrounding them. What are they meant to be seeing? They concentrate hard, almost as if to get whatever is left of their mind to focus.  _ Think _ . They tell themselves.  _ Just think. _

 

Suddenly, a white light washes over them and they are no longer in the dark. Instead, they are sitting on a dimly lit staircase. They look around, trying to pinpoint where they are. It’s a house, that much is obvious but they have no idea where. The staircase railing next to them is white and the steps they sit on are covered in a rug. It seems to be late wherever they are, as the only light is coming from the sconces on the walls.  _ Sconces?  _ How do they know that word? 

 

They look down to see that they seem to be in a body of a child, judging from the small hands and pale blue dinosaur pajamas. They looked to their side at their reflection in a framed picture. The boy is really young, with big eyes and floppy hair. He seems distressed, judging from the worried expression on his face. As they stare at the reflection, they know that this was  _ him.  _ At least… a version of himself. He still doesn’t know exactly who he is but is hoping wherever he is, will help him figure it out. He begins to take note of his surroundings, which is when he hears the voices from the other room. 

 

He can’t see the faces of those talking, but can see their shadows on the tiled floor. They appear to be in a kitchen, but not in view of the doorway. As he listens carefully, he can tell that they aren’t just talking but rather arguing. He doesn’t know how he noted that just from the tones of their voices, but something deep inside him just tells him that this isn’t right. He peaks through the bannister and listens more closely. 

 

_ “I’m tired.”  _ A male voice snaps.  _ “Can we go to sleep already?” _

 

_ “No, John.”  _ A female voice replies. He jumps as he hears the clanging of dishes.  _ “Because I’m not going to get any sleep. I still have to finish these dishes and I know the moment I get into bed, Sam’s gonna wake up and I’m going to have to be the one to do it - since it’s always me.” _

 

_ “Don’t give me that bullshit Mary.”  _ The male, John, yells.  _ “You know I have gotten up for the kids, don’t pretend like I haven’t.” _

 

_ “You did with Dean.”  _ Mary bitterly says.  _ “But I’ve rarely seen you do it for Sam. Whenever I try and make you, you always say you’re tired.” _

 

_ “I work 10 hour days Mary.” _

 

_ “Yeah so do I John. Mine just doesn't pay the bills. Instead I make sure the house is tidy, that Dean and Sam are kept well fed and happy. Taking care of two kids day and night isn’t easy, but you wouldn’t know as you barely spend quality time with the two of them when you’re here.” _

 

_ “That’s a fucking lie and you know it!”  _ John angrily shouts and a loud bang echos from the other room. 

 

He feels himself move back, scared of the loud sounds and angry voices. He falls back against the staircase wall with a  _ thump!  _ Coming from the impact. There is silence in the other room for a few moments and then quiet, harsh voices. He begins to decide whether he should head back upstairs or stay on the staircase when he hears the soft pattering of footsteps. He looks through the railing to see a woman walking towards him, raising her eyebrow in his direction. 

 

Her long blonde hair is tousled out on her shoulders and her body is wrapped up in a light green dressing gown. At first he simply recognises her as Mary, the woman he heard in the kitchen. However as she gets closer and a small smile warms on her face, a pang hits deep in his chest and he realises. She isn’t just Mary. She’s  _ Mom.  _

 

She climbs the first two steps and leans down so she is eye level with him.

 

“What do you think you are doing up Dean Winchester? Bed time was over an hour ago.”

 

He feels himself talk. 

 

_ “Sorry Mommy, I had a nightmare.” _

 

She lets out a soft laugh and reaches forward. He feels himself be picked up and into the comfort of his mother’s arms, his head resting on her shoulders. 

 

“Haven’t I always told you darling that you have angels watching over you?” She whispers, soothing the back of his head. “Now let’s get back you into bed and make sure that this time, you will have nothing but peaceful dreams.”

 

As she begins to ascend the staircase with him in her arms, a white light washes over him and suddenly, he is in the dark again. 

 

While there were many things that needed to be made clear to him, things he knew he needed to piece together -- at least one thing was made clear.

 

He is Dean Winchester.

 

**_Cas._ **

 

He’d never seen Dean so lifeless. 

 

He laid on a bed in the infirmary, eyes closed as he remained unconscious and unresponsive. He’d been like that the whole time home from Fort Wayne, nothing but soft breathing and a slow heartbeat. He was still alive, that much was detectable. But whether he would remain alive? Whether he would ever be who he once was? That was something that they couldn’t answer.

 

Cas sat by the bed wanting nothing more than to touch Dean’s forehead and again and try his damn hardest to break the curse. Though he had already tried, numerous times. Nothing had worked -- all he’d seen was nothing but black. He was also exhausted, from using his grace several times in a span of 24 hours. From breaking the witch’s hold, to smiting her, to trying to heal Dean over and over again. He needed to re-energise, despite the fact that it made him feel helpless. 

 

Sam stood a few feet away, on the phone with a few of the Winchester’s friends trying to find some sort of lead about the curse. Cas had never met any of these people Sam was talking to, but had heard about them numerous of times. Sam had first called Sheriff Jody Mills from Sioux Falls, who promised she’d keep a look out, along with keep in contact with the local Fort Wayne authorities on the state of the comatose patients. Then there was Charlie Bradbury, a good friend and companion of the Winchesters. Sam had to argue her down from rushing to Dean’s aid for at least five minutes as he knew there was nothing she could do here. He ended up getting Charlie to research into past cases and see if there was anything she could find through translation about similar curses. Finally, he phoned Garth -- their werewolf friend from Wisconsin. Cas had heard from the Winchesters that Garth was retired from hunting and happy with the life he had with his wife. However, he still had Bobby’s hunter connections and promised Sam through the phone that he would make some calls.

 

By the time Sam finished up on the phone, he looked more stressed than before. He pulled up a chair next to Cas, sinking in as he he looked over mournfully at his brother. 

 

“I got them all on it but… this kind of witch magic is extreme. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Sam explained, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I hope one of them is able to find something.  _ Anything. _ ”

 

Cas didn’t reply, just gave a simple nod and kept his eyes trained on Dean.

 

Because that’s all they could really do at this point.  _ Hope. _


	3. Chapter Two

**Day 3**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

Dean started to remember things about himself, pieces and fragments here and there. He didn’t know why everything was blank and why everything was coming back slowly. He still had no idea who he was and didn’t know much about himself. Most of what he knew were snapshots from his childhood at around the age of four. Memories of eating dinner in the kitchen, of his mom making him PB&J and playing in his room with his various toys. They were only snapshots as if they were taken by a camera. They weren’t as vivid as his first memory.

 

That was until he was sucked into another white light and placed in the living room of his childhood home. Through the eyes of his young self, he could see that he was playing cars. He seemed to love pushing the cars so that they went zooming down the tracks. He could see that next to him lay a baby, which he realised was his brother Sam. Sam had been in various snapshots of his past and the whole time he had been an infant, only just being able to babble and drool. Sam was laying on a mat, staring up at some dangling toys above him.  _ A mobile,  _ the distant part of Dean’s mind told him. 

 

Dean could tell it was late, judging from the darkness outside the window. It’s why he wasn’t surprised when his mom entered the room and sent the both of them a smile.

 

“Time for bed, boys.” She said, going over and lifting Sam up off the floor. He felt the eagerness of his child self, the way he followed his mom up the stairs and into Sam’s bedroom.  _ Sam’s nursery,  _ that part of his brain helpfully supplied again. He watched as his mom placed Sam into his crib, his little brother gurgling as she did so. He was then dragged into the bathroom afterwards by his mom, forced to brush his teeth and get changed into his pajamas. As soon as his mom helped him button his shirt, he was lifted back into her arms and together they returned to the nursery.

 

“Say goodnight to your brother, Dean.” She told him, ushering him over to Sam. He leant in and said goodnight to the baby, who just stared up at him with wide brown eyes. Despite the fact he seemed like he barely knew this baby that was meant to be his brother, he knew that he loved him a lot. Although he had no idea why, it was this instinct deep inside him. A gut feeling of protectiveness that he couldn’t seem to shake.

 

As his mom said goodnight, he heard his dad call his name. As he ran into his father’s arms, he got that same pang of familiarity he got from seeing Sam and his mother. He knew that at this point in time, he loved his dad with his whole heart and idolised the man. Yet, something inside him told him that it wasn’t the same feeling he got around Sam and his mom. His brother and his mother gave off a feeling of warmth, a pure love that Dean felt wrapped up in. While he knew he loved his dad, he couldn’t tell what this feeling deep inside him was. It wasn’t attached to this moment but rather a lingering vibe in the back of his head.

 

His mom and dad took him into his room and tucked him in. One moment, he remembered falling asleep and everything going to black. Next, he was awoken by the sound of screaming and crackling. He felt himself wake up startled, gazing around the room in a panic. He fell out of bed and ran out into the hallway, immediately stopping as a smell of smoke and something so rotten filled the air around him. It was hot,  _ really  _ hot and he could immediately feel the beads of sweat that dotted his forehead. He didn’t have a lot of time to think because he immediately saw his father run out of the room, holding Sam bundled in his arms. 

 

“Daddy!” He cried out. He could practically hear the confusion and fear in his own voice.

 

His dad placed his brother into his arms and told him to leave as fast as he could. He followed his father’s instructions and ran down the stairs and out the front door. He remembered holding Sam in his arms and seeing the flashes of orange light in the window of Sam’s nursery. He remembered telling his brother that everything would be okay just as his dad ran back out, grabbing the both of them in his arms. He remembered something that sounded like a gurgling scream and the window shattering into tiny pieces. Then, everything fade. 

 

His mind pieced together fragments following that. Little memories that flooded his mind of the months following that incident. He remembered that his mother had died but at the time, he didn’t understand what it meant. He still doesn’t, he can’t piece together what the concept of death really means. He just knew that it meant he’d never see his mom again. 

 

He remembered the funeral, the time where everyone dressed in black and said goodbye. He remembered not speaking the entire time, even when his dad attempted to prompt him to. He remembered continuing not to speak for months. He remembered going to the office of a doctor, with his dad asking her to  _ fix him.  _ He remembered waking up in the night to see his dad crying on the floor of the bedroom, begging his mom to return. He remembered moving and moving and  _ moving _ . He remembered not being able to stay in one place.

 

Then, he finally remembered the day Sam said his first word on the floor of another new home. He remembered his brother smiling up at him at babbling a word similar to Dean. He remembered smiling for the first time in months and handing Sam a toy, that the one year old immediately placed into his mouth.

 

Finally, as the memory faded, he remembered speaking.

 

“Hi Sam.”

 

**_Cas._ **

 

“How is he?”

 

Cas looked up from the bed to see Sam in the doorway of the infirmary. He looked as if he hadn’t slept -- from the dark circles under his eyes to the slouch of his posture. Cas wanted to tell him to go back to bed, but he knew that the Winchester would never listen to him.

 

“No improvement.” Cas replied. “I ended up sneaking into the nearest hospital last night and getting some supplies. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

He watched as Sam took in the bags that were injected into Dean. Cas not being able to heal Dean, meant he wasn’t able to make sure that he was getting the nutrition that he needed. It had already been nearly 48 hours without Dean getting the water and food he needed. Cas remembered the feeling of being human and how thirsty he’d been only after a couple of hours. The human body was strong, but it also needed the necessities. While they tried to cure Dean, they needed to make sure his body kept functioning. 

 

Instead of being mad, Sam forced a small smile. 

 

“Thanks Cas.”

 

Cas sent a small smile back, before getting out of his chair. He indicated to it.

 

“Sit. I’m going to go see if I can find something in the library. You spend some time with your brother.”

 

Sam sent Cas a grateful look and immediately occupied the empty seat. Cas left the room and headed towards the main library. While they had already done some research when they were on the case, they hadn’t extensively searched the Bunker’s sources like they should have. If anyone other than the Winchesters and the angels had seen something his powerful -- it would be the Men of Letters. 

 

Cas scanned each of the books carefully, tugging out the ones that had any sort of knowledge on witches. There were tons, stacks and  _ stacks  _ of books. He was a fast reader, all angels were, yet this was going to take him a long time. 

 

He took off his trenchcoat and placed it on the back of the chair. As he sat down in it and looked at the piles of literature next to him, he took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he was going to find something to help Dean. 

 

With the determination running through him, he opened up the first book and began to read. 


	4. Chapter Three

 

**Day 4**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

Years of Dean’s life started to piece together like missing pieces of a puzzle. 

 

From the age of 5 onwards, Dean found himself constantly on the road with his brother and father. They travelled from town to town, from state to state -- across the country and back. At first, as a child, Dean had found it incredibly exciting. He remembered the feeling of awe and anticipation, something only someone so young could feel. It was a happy feeling and it was happy memories. 

 

Up until he turned six and a half and his father decided he was old enough to tell the truth to. He remembered staring up at his father as he told him that monsters were  _ real.  _ About how his dad’s job was to hunt them so they wouldn’t hurt people. How one had hurt his mom, had  _ killed her  _ and eventually, he was going to stop that monster too. 

 

As that memory flooded to mind, a part of him wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. Monsters?  _ Really?  _ Yet, he couldn’t help but have this certainty that his father was telling the truth. And as more snapshots of his childhood began to appear, he realised that there was no doubt about it. 

 

He remembered the stories his father told him and all the studying he made Dean do about monsters. From werewolves to wendigos, spirits to revenants. He remembered the days he stayed home as an eight year old while his father went out hunting -- watching cartoons with Sam and eating mac and cheese. He remembered the one time his father went on a hunt and Dean had gone to the local arcade. He remembered coming home and seeing a scary monster lurking over his brother. He remembered his dad coming home and saving Sam. He remembered never seeing his dad so angry. 

 

Though, no memory was as sharp as the time he went on his first hunt at twelve. He remembered being so excited when his dad told him that he could join him on the case. They left Sam at the motel, the eight year old begging Dean to let him come along. Dean, being too cocky and arrogant for his own good, had told Sam he was just a baby and he wasn’t old enough to come along yet. He could feel the twinge of guilt that flooded through him from that particular moment.

 

The case led them to a retirement home where a spirit was haunting the residents. Dean remembered being in awe of his father, watching him as he investigated and researched the case. At the time, he had wanted to be just like his dad. The thought now made Dean feel sad, almost as if he wished he hadn’t thought that. He had no idea why, as a lot of things were still black in his mind. 

 

One night, Dean’s dad felt it was time that they tracked this spirit down. They snuck into the retirement home, his dad letting him pick the lock. He felt a surge of pride when the door unlocked for him and his dad gave him a thumbs up. He followed his dad through the dark halls, towards the west wing of the retirement home where the spirit was usually caught lurking. Dean didn’t know much about this spirit, only that it was a vengeful former resident who hated the fact that he’d been sent to the retirement home in the first place. Dean’s dad said that since the spirit was vengeful, he was just angry all the time. He wanted to hurt everybody and anybody -- so it happened to be the residents in the home. 

 

He remembered it all happening so fast. From the moment his dad summoned the spirit to Dean getting hurt. He remembered seeing the spirit appear, the first ever spirit he’d ever  _ seen _ . He then remembered in that split second feeling  _ scared.  _ He’d always known monsters were real and never thought he’d actually be afraid. Yet he’d only ever seen one monster and he didn’t know what to expect when he walked in there. He felt unprepared and clueless. 

 

The spirit took that opportunity and after blasting his dad into a wall, he turned his sights onto Dean. Dean held out his gun full of rock salt in front of him, aiming it straight at the ghost. He heard his dad in the distance, yelling:  _ “Shoot Dean! Shoot!”  _ and so he did. Yet his hands were shaking so the rock salt missed the ghost by half an inch and went into the wall behind him. The spirit became infuriated and charged at Dean, shoving at him and causing him to fall backwards. He landed with a  _ thud!  _ And groaned as he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked up to see the ghost still coming towards him, ready to strike yet again. Yet, before he could, there was a bright light that made Dean turn his head away.

 

When he looked back, he saw the spirit had lit up in flames. It screeched as it disintegrated before Dean’s eyes and disappeared to wherever ghosts went to when they died. He turned his gaze towards his father, who was standing over a flaming trash can. Though the fire in the bin was nothing compared to the angry flame that had lit up behind his father’ eyes. 

 

He watched as his dad put out the flame before heading towards Dean in a fury.

 

“What happened to all of those shooting lessons, Dean?” He asked, venom laced in his tone Suddenly, Dean felt as if he was five years old again. “I gave you  _ one  _ simple instruction.  _ Shoot.  _ Instead you leave a dent in the wall and do no damage whatsoever to him. You could have gotten yourself  _ killed  _ Dean.”

 

“‘M’sorry sir.” He replied, mumbling.

 

“No… it’s my fault.” His dad replied, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You are obviously too young to be going out on hunts. I should have known.” 

 

He watched as his father looked back over at the trashcan and dent from the rock salt in the all.

 

“Head to the car Dean. I need to clean up.”

 

After waiting at the car for five minutes. He remembered seeing his dad head out and point to the car with a furious stare. Dean hopped in and sat tense in the car as they headed back to the motel where Sam was. He remembered Sam being excited, asking Dean to tell him all about the case. Dean had just ignored them and got into bed, trying to force himself to fall asleep so he didn’t cry like a baby instead.

 

Two days later after they had relocated to a new town and a new motel -- John told them that there was a new case he needed to hunt. Dean remembered offering to grab his own bag, wanting to prove himself to his dad this time. John told Dean that he needed to stay back and protect Sam, that he needed more time and training before he could go on another case. He remembered watching as his dad walked out the front door, leaving him behind once again. 

 


	5. Chapter Four

****Day 5** **

 

**_Cas._ **

 

He was standing in the doorway of the infirmary when he heard the noise.

 

It was late. Sam had gone to bed a few hours prior, after being too exhausted and emotionally drained to continue researching. Cas stayed at the infirmary, keeping the nightly watch on Dean for any sign of improvement or change. 

 

It was around midnight that he heard the sound of dishes clinking from another room. He turned away from Dean and looked into the dark hall of the bunker, just as another rustling of sound came. He gave one last glance back at the unconscious human before picking up his pace and following the sound of the noise.

 

It led him to the kitchen, where upon flicking on the light revealed Sam. The younger brother was sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of scotch next to him and a small glass in his hand. He looked exhausted and definitely in need of a good night’s sleep. Though judging from the alcohol, it seemed as if he hadn’t gotten any that night.

 

“Sam.” Cas said, walking into the room. “What are you doing up?”

 

Sam laughed humorlessly. “Couldn’t sleep. Ironic isn’t it?” 

 

Cas raised an eyebrow as he slipped into the seat across from Sam. “I don’t understand the irony.”

 

“I can’t sleep, at all. Yet Dean can do nothing  _ but  _ sleep. Just seems sort of funny, how that worked out.”

 

Cas sighed. “Sam, you need to sleep. You aren’t doing anything to help Dean if you are sleep deprived.” 

 

“Yeah, well I’m not doing anything to help him at all.” Sam said with a scoff. “I… I  _ told  _ Dean we should have done more research into this hex. You remember Cas, you  _ backed me up.  _ Yet, Dean being the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ idiot, he just wanted to kill the witch. If… maybe if I had pushed further, we may have worked out what this curse was eventually. Then maybe if we did, we would of worked out how to stop it. Dean wouldn’t have gotten hurt… we wouldn’t be stuck in this situation.”

 

“It was my fault too Sam, I should have pushed harder as well.” Cas replied. “Dean isn’t dying, he is just comatose. We still have time to figure this out Sam.”

 

Sam downed the last of his drink, hissing through his teeth as he swallowed. “Not enough time. You see him Cas, we had to hook him up to bags so that he could get the food and water that he needs to survive. That’s no way to live Cas. What happens if it takes us weeks? Or months to solve this? He’s just gonna weaken and… and if we eventually solve it… I have no idea what Dean is gonna be like when he wakes up.”

 

Cas watched as Sam buried his head into his hands. He couldn’t help but agree with Sam and could understand why he was feeling that lost. Cas felt it too, every time he reached a dead end. While they had time, they also didn’t. The more time they tried to find a cure, the more time Dean’s body and mind slowly weakened. 

 

Cas got up and walked over to Sam, carefully helping him onto his feet. Despite being resistant at first, eventually he let Cas lead him to his bedroom and help him into bed. Cas watched as Sam laid his head onto the pillow and instantaneously fell fast asleep. 

 

He walked out and closed the door behind him, which was when he allowed himself to have a moment. Sam, who usually was overly optimistic, had begun to lose hope. And if Sam was losing hope… things were worse than he thought. 

**_Dean._ **

It didn’t take long for Dean to remember certain aspects of his life. Aspects that made him realise why his father wasn’t his favourite person on Earth.

Ten years of his childhood rolled together in a fragmented timeline. He saw bits and pieces of his teenage years -- the way he attempted to balance high school between hunting and caring for Sam. With his dad always out, Dean felt like he took on the role of his brother’s carer. It’s maybe why he had that feeling of protectiveness always inside of him. He saw himself as a father to his little brother, someone he had to care for.

He remembered being sent to the boys home in Hurleyville called Sonny’s. Remembered his father leaving him there. It was tough to relive, to see the way his sixteen year old self enjoyed his new found life. Enjoyed not hunting and being what his mind seemed to dub ‘a normal teenage boy’ He remembered being with Robin, who he had developed some sort of an interest in. He remembered playing the guitar with her almost every afternoon and eventually, agreeing to go to the local school dance beside her. Then he remembered his father picking him up and the burning anger he felt towards his old man. But mostly, he remembered staring out his bedroom window at Sonny’s and seeing Sam in the backseat and knowing that he couldn’t leave his brother -- no matter what. 

He could see from the memories that he always respected his father, yet that adoration he had as a child definitely seemed to cease the more he got older. However, he always had this strong love for his brother and wanted him to do the best that he could. He made sure he had time to study between cases and tried to make sure that he could stay at schools for as long as possible, trying to find local cases for their dad so that they wouldn’t have to move far. He wanted Sam to have a life in a way, yet at the same time -- he didn’t want his brother to leave. As he looked back on those snapshots, he realised that he felt like Sam was the only one he had at times. He never could talk to his dad the way he talked to Sam. He never relied on his dad the same way he relied on his brother. 

So the night he left, was the worst night of Dean’s life.

Despite all the moving, the constant arguments and the frequent battles - Sam graduated with a high GPA and 187 on his SATs. John had been on a hunt during the graduation ceremony, but Dean had been there. He surreptitiously lingered in the background, watching with an enormous amount of pride as his brother got his certificate. 

John never mentioned anything when he got home, much to the anger of Sam who had vented to Dean one night when their dad went out for supplies. Dean supposed from that point onwards, Sam’s anger just built up to the point where he just exploded. It was a few weeks later during a hunt, on the street outside an abandoned house, where Sam revealed all. 

“You know what I’m thinking?” John had said as the three of them walked towards the impala. “Over the summer, we should go on a cross country trip - like we did when you boys were kids. I thought we could see the grand canyon again… remember when Sam couldn’t stop talking about it for like a month?”

Dean couldn’t help but form a small smile. “Yeah Dad, I remember.”

He looked over at Sam, to see his brother with a frown on his face. Dean shot him a concerned look, but Sam just shook his head at him. 

His dad who had their back turned to them, didn’t notice and continued talking.

“Yeah, we won’t have school to worry about no more. It will just be like when you boys were little. Us three, out of the open road… just like old times.”

“Yeah Dad. It’ll be nice.”

He turned to look at Sam who he realised was a few feet behind him, standing still. Dean noticed that his brother was worried, his face tense. Dean halted to a stop himself, causing his father to do the same.

“Woah, woah!” He exclaimed. “What’s the hold up?”

Dean just stared at Sam. “Sammy… what’s going on?”

It took him a moment. Dean watched as he took a breath and clenched and unclenched his hands before staring both Dean and their father in the eye.

“I’m… I’m leaving.” Sam stated.

It was those two words that almost knocked the wind out of Dean. He remembered his breath hitching, as he stared back at his brother with wide eyes.

“Leaving? What do you mean you’re  _ leaving?! _ ” Their dad snapped, already angered by Sam’s revelation.

“I got accepted… into Stanford.” Sam said. “Full ride into Pre-Law. They want me to move into the dorms and start my orientation next week.”

Stanford. Dean realised that Sam was moving to  _ California.  _ And not only that, he was moving next  _ week _ .

“Stanford? You are leaving to go to college?” Their dad snapped, dropping his duffle onto the floor. “You aren’t leaving Sam, no way.”

Dean watched as his brother’s eyes lit up with that defiant fire. He scoffed. “Yeah, what are you going to do about it sir? In case you have forgotten, I am an adult. This is  _ my  _ life and I’m not going to give up my dream just because you want me to keep being your good little soldier.”

Dean gulped knowing what was about to happen.

“You watch your mouth with me, son.” Their dad growled.

“I’m done with following your orders, I’m done with just living in cars and motels, I’m done with this whole life. I want to make something of myself, I want to study something I find truly rewarding. And this time, you aren’t gonna stop me.” 

“We’re not discussing this now.” John snapped, looking around at the empty road. “Both of you,  get in the car.”

While Dean could see Sam was still pissed, he agreed and hopped into the back seat of the impala. The whole drive back to the motel was silent and stoic, not a word uttered by any of the three. It was like that for the following week, when they moved onto a different city, motel and case. Their dad seemed to lighten up the following few days, almost as if he felt that he had won the battle with Sam. Yet Dean knew he hadn’t as he could still see the determination in his brother. He woke up countless times throughout the week to find Sam typing away on the computer and seeing him go to the library for ‘research’ and return with documents of personal papers. Dean knew it was coming in only a matter of days and that Sam was still leaving no matter what. 

It happened at a Gas Station. They were only 10 miles from their previous motel when their dad needed to fuel up. As he got out of the car to get gas; Sam got out as well.

“What are you doing?” Dean heard their dad grumble. Dean figured Sam was going inside to grab a snack for the journey, but his blood ran cold at his brother’s next words.

“I told you Dad, I’m leaving and… tonight’s the night.”

As Dean scrambled to get out of the car, he watched his brother sling his duffle bag over his shoulder. 

“Sam, what the fuck are you talking about?” His dad snapped. “We talked about this the other night.”

“No, we didn’t.” Sam replied harshly. “I’ve booked my flight out of here already. I have orientation at Stanford in two days… I’m… I’m going. I wanted to talk about this more with you Dad.  _ Explain  _ this to you. But… you wouldn’t listen so… I had to do this by myself.”

Dean watched with sadness as Sam began to walk off, towards the road to hitchhike… Dean presumed. He looked over at his dad who made no attempt to stop him and instead just glared daggers at his youngest son. As Dean turned his gaze back, he saw Sam stop for a moment and turn to look back at Dean.

“Bye Dean.” He said.

Dean gulped. “See ya, Sammy.”

His brother continued to walk down to the road and Dean watched as the fury continued to flood through his father.

“You listen here Sam.” He yelled out. “If you leave right now, if you continue to walk away. Then don’t ever and I mean  _ ever,  _ bother coming back.”

Sam turned his head slightly, almost as if he was considering his father’s words. Then, Dean’s heart clenched as he watched Sam take a step forward and then another.

Sam continued walking away and didn’t once again look back.


	6. Chapter Five

**Day 6**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

From what Dean could tell -- after Sam left, he rarely saw his father. 

 

A month after Sam moved to California, his dad arrived home one day with a new truck. Dean remembered opening his mouth to say something, but was stopped by his dad chucking a set of keys at him.

 

_ “You bought me a truck?”  _ He remembered asking. His father just shook his head.

 

_ “No, the truck is for me.”  _ He replied. It was then that it dawned on Dean that his dad hadn’t gifted him a truck… he’d gifted him the  _ Impala.  _

 

It wasn’t long after that his father decided to go take a hunt almost across the country. He told Dean about a local case, gave him a bunch of fake credit cards and the keys to their current motel. From what he could tell, he didn’t see much of his dad after that.

 

A year went by in the timeline he seemed to spend the whole time hunting. Up until one hunt where he stumbled across a young reporter that changed everything for him. He met her at a local bar one night, where Dean most of the time found himself. He bought her a drink and while at the first she seemed disinterested, she eventually started up a conversation with him. 

 

They exchanged numbers and began talking everyday while Dean was away for ‘work’. Every time he finished a hunt, he found himself back with her. It lasted a few months their routine and for those few months, Dean felt happy. He knew he loved her, in a way that was different to how he loved his family. He loved her in a way that made him scared, made him frightened. His feelings for her lit something inside of him and he knew that it was serious at that point.

 

He trusted her enough that he finally decided to reveal the truth to her, one night at her apartment. She asked him what he did for a living, why he was always on the move. He could still feel the nervousness that his twenty-three year old self felt at that point. The way he almost stuttered as he began to explain. He could still feel his stomach drop when Cassie looked at him as if she didn’t know him. He remembered the fighting, the way he felt when she called him a liar. He remembered being kicked out and leaving, speeding the hell out of town. 

 

He could see the way his young self had wanted to ignore the heartbreak, pretend as if it didn’t happen. The way he began to drink and sleep around as if it was a hobby. He realised that he was afraid of committing, afraid of having something again like he did with Cassie. 

 

He felt it was sort of funny that someone who’s job put him at risk every day… was afraid of getting hurt. 

 

**_Cas._ **

 

The next day was quiet.

 

Sam had woken up in the late morning, alerting Cas to his presence when he stumbled into the infirmary. He looked over at Cas with a tired gaze before slumping into a chair beside Dean. They sat like that for a few moments, before both making the conscious decision to continue their research.

 

Several coffees later, Sam was in the library reading through his fourth book. Cas was currently onto his fourteenth for the day, having been reading during his nightly watch of Dean. They hadn’t spoken the entire time, as no information had been valuable to them. Not until Cas had stumbled upon a section in an ancient lore book about witchcraft. 

 

“Sam.” Cas spoke, causing the younger Winchester to snap his gaze up.

 

“Listen to this… Demons were a huge part in ancient witchcraft and were considered the main source of power for witches. The more powerful the spells, the more demon influence they were estimated to have. While some witches were born with their powers, most called on dark magic from summoning demons. You would find most witches were covered in carvings, sigils of demonology that helped strengthen their abilities.”

 

Cas watched as Sam’s eyes widened.

 

“The carvings on Dean’s chest… they’re obviously some sort of sigil right?” Sam pondered, to which Cas responded with a nod. “What if they are demon sigils? Calling on some big bad demon for help?”

 

“If so… then Crowley would possibly know something right? After all, he is the king of Hell.” 

 

Sam grinned at Cas’ words and shot up from his seat, a brightness in him that hadn’t been present all day. 

 

“Cas… I think you’re onto something.”


	7. Chapter Six

**Day 7**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

Dean remembered the memory of seeing Sam again and how surreal of an experience it was. It felt like a blur looking back, from the moment he realised his dad was missing to the car ride to Stanford. He remembered seeing Sam for the first time in a while, realising that his brother finally grew that last inch and shot up to become taller than him. He remembered meeting Jessica and although he had teased Sam about her being out his league, he could feel how proud of his brother he was. How he saw that his brother was finally happy.

 

Yet as they went away for the weekend in search of Dad, he remembered the longing feeling he felt to have his brother back hunting with him. He felt conflicted… because as much as he wanted Sam to have a normal life, he could see how alone he was. Dean knew that his twenty-six year old self would never admit to feeling lonely, but as he relived the experience… he knew that Dean wanted nothing more than to have someone… to have his brother again.

 

Yet Sam had established his life in Stanford and after they realised that Dad wasn’t in Jericho, he wanted to return. Despite the pang of sadness he felt, Dean did what was best for his brother and dropped him home. After Sam got inside, he began to drive away towards the coordinates his dad had left him… only to have an unsteady pit in his stomach. He had no idea why, nor how... still didn't. Yet, his past self had trusted it with everything and turned around. He parked outside the complex and got out the car, only to hear screaming. He remembered running up to Sam’s apartment and feeling the heat that came through the doors. He also remembered the smell of smoke and that foul,  _ foul  _ smell. The same smell he remembered from his childhood, from the night of his mother’s death.

 

He ran in and towards the bedroom, shoving the door open. He yelled for Sam, only to stop short for a moment to look towards the roof. The flames had engulfed the ceiling, creating a tidal wave of orange and red. He saw that above the bed, there was a body which from his brother’s screaming… could only be Jessica. He could feel Sam’s pain as he grabbed him and had to drag him out of the room kicking and screaming. The pain he felt when Sam finally collapsed onto the hood of the Impala and appeared emotionless, staring at the road with darkness behind his eyes. The memory was so vivid and the tornado of emotions it brought along with it.

 

From what he gathered from the next blur of snapshots was that Sam went hunting with him again. They needed to find Dad and needed to find whatever killed Jess. It was fairly obvious it was the same thing that killed their mom, so it made their mission fairly simple. Yet, Dean could see the way his brother became fixated. The way he seemed to focus only on avenging Jess’ death, rather than all the other cases they came across. Sam became less like himself and more like a version of their father. While Sam hated getting compared to their old man, Dean could see the similarities in them. Their fighting and arguing came from being too similar, rather than being too different.

 

He watched as Sam had trouble sleeping, nightmares plaguing him over and over again. He remembered that struggle he felt watching his brother go through that, the way he tried to get over the loss of his girlfriend. He remembered when Sam met Sarah and Dean had encouraged him to pursue it. Sarah had wanted something with Sam, had felt a connection. Dean could see that Sam had felt it too but was too scared to go through with it. He remembered feeling dismayed as they left, wanting nothing more than his brother to be happy with someone else.

 

The blur of the timeline showed the way it took months for Sam to start feeling like himself again, from the pranks they did together to the way he just began to  _ smile.  _ Dean remembered eventually feeling at peace with his brother, despite the fact that so many things were going on in that short span of time -- from the sudden event of their father’s death to Sam’s strange abilities. They had a lot to solve and a lot of things were unknown, but Sam seemed to be moving on and becoming more like himself.

 

Then, they met Madison. Dean was all for Sam building a relationship with her, once they figured out she wasn’t in control of her werewolf side. That she wasn’t the monster they had thought her to be. Yet, it wasn’t until they realised that she couldn’t be cured… that Dean realised the mistake they made. He remembered watching as Sam broke down, realising he had to be the one to kill her and the guilt Dean felt for helping him get to this tough spot. He offered to do it, practically begged Sam to let him be the one to pull the trigger. Yet his brother was adamant that because Maddie asked him, he needed to be the one to do it.

 

Dean remembered crying for the first time in a long time as he watched his brother leave the kitchen, ready to shoot the girl he'd finally decided to try again with. It was then that Dean realised he never wanted his brother to get hurt again. Looking back, as much as he wanted his brother to be happy… he was scared for his brother to love. He was scared for his brother to hurt. 

 

**_Cas._ **

 

“You ready?” Sam asked Cas, looking over at him.

 

Cas stood by his readily made devil’s trap, one that he had made sure wouldn’t break. He felt the thrum of his grace and his blade which was ready to be manifested. He nodded at Sam.

 

“Ready.”

 

With a few words and a match, Sam lit the summoning bowl -- the one that called for Crowley. It took a few moments of silence and awkward exchanged glances by Cas and Sam, before they suddenly felt the presence. 

 

“Moose… feathers… to what do I owe the pleasure?” The voice greeted. Cas looked over at the devil’s trap to see that no one was there. With rapid speed, he turned to see Crowley beside Dean’s bed -- peering down at the Winchester with an expressionless gaze. 

 

“Crowley.” Cas growled. 

 

“Relax darling, I’m not going to touch your boyfriend.” Crowley said, waving his hand next to him. “But seriously? A devil’s trap? Do you not realise I  _ know  _ you two by now? Did you  _ really  _ think you could outsmart me?”

 

He walked a few steps to the right causing Cas to manifest his blade. Crowley looked at it, boredom clearly written on his face. 

 

“It seems you are pretty concerned about someone  _ you  _ summoned.” He said. “Which brings us to the point as to why we are all gathered here today. Why  _ did  _ you summon me? I’m assuming it’s something to do with our little sleeping squirrel over there.”

 

“Dean’s hurt.” Sam spoke up, causing Crowley’s attention to turn to him. “It was a witch. She - She cut some sort of sigil into his chest and hexed him. Cas killed her but… but Dean isn’t getting any better. Cas can’t heal him, can’t see into his head and… it’s been a week and he’s still unresponsive.” 

 

“A sigil you say?” Crowley said, walking back over to the head of Dean’s bed. Tentatively, with his eyes locked on both Sam and Cas, he lifted up Dean’s shirt to reveal his red torso.

 

“Yes… that is some sigil.” 

 

He dropped the shirt. 

 

“That’s definitely a witchcraft sigil and a very old one at that. I’d say it dates back to at least 300-400 B.C.” 

 

Sam and Cas raised their eyebrows at the demon. 

 

Crowley shrugged. “My mother was a witch. I know a thing or two.”

 

“We… we summoned you because through the lore we found that ancient witchcraft involved the help of demons. We thought you might know something or… know  _ someone  _ that may be causing this to Dean.”

 

“By someone you mean a demon?” Crowley asked with a small laugh. “Like I said, this is a witch’s sigil, definitely no demon work here. And even if there was… like I said… thousands of years old. There are no demons in hell that are that old. I’m one of the oldest there is now. Azazel? Meg? Lilith? Alastair? All long gone. Those who may have once known or helped in the  _ circumstances  _ you’ve described are unfortunately, dead. Surprisingly, immortality isn’t for all of us demons.”

 

“But can you fix him? With your demon powers or whatever?” Sam questioned. “What if we made a deal?”

 

“Sam--” Cas snapped.

 

“Even if you made a deal… it wouldn’t work.” Crowley stated. “This is ancient magic, powerful magic, one that I’ve barely seen before in my long life. Even if you made a deal… I’m not sure this is something that even demons could fix. Even  _ I  _ could fix.”

 

Sam and Cas both sunk into a silent tension, the both of them realising their only lead had disintegrated before their eyes.

 

Crowley, appeared unfazed.

 

“Well, on that high note… I must bid farewell. Bye darlings.”

 

And before Sam or Cas could say or do anything, Crowley disappeared. 


	8. Chapter Seven

**Week 2**

**Day 8**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

The protectiveness Dean felt for his brother was always there, but it never felt stronger the moment he realised Sam was dead.

 

It was a foggy memory, one clouded by so much grief that he could just remember  _ pain _ . He could barely remember how they got Sam back to the abandoned house, rather just the feeling of watching his brother’s corpse lay on a bed and knowing that he was  _ gone.  _ He could see the tears that blurred his vision as he relieved the event, talking to his brother as if he’d magically just wake up. He kept asking what to do, what was he going to do? He couldn’t live a life with his little brother being dead, the brother he was meant to protect. Though eventually, he remembered a past case and as he looked at his brother, the feeling of his stomach dropping told him what he needed to do.

 

He remembered trying to bargain with the red eyed woman, trying to get at least  _ five  _ years. Yet, in the end he got one more year of life in exchange for his brother’s. The feeling of relief he felt when he saw his brother up and talking again… saw his brother  _ alive  _ was a memory that he cherished.

 

The next year blurred together with an angry Sam trying everything to break the deal on his brother’s life. From events such as Lilith, the demon Ruby to the many demons and evil spirits that had begun to lurk the Earth--Sam tried his hardest to keep Dean alive.

 

Yet, finally the clock struck midnight and it officially made it a year since he made the deal. He heard the growls of the hellhounds and saw the evil smirk on Lilith’s face as she let them in. He gave one last look of goodbye to Sam before he felt nothing but pain. He remembered blacking out, remembered that feeling when life faded. He remembered  _ dying _ .

 

He wondered if this is where he was now… if he was dead. Did that just happen? Is that where he was now? Was this a whole moment of him reliving his greatest hits? He tried to grasp at something in the blackness but there was nothing to grasp. Panic began to set in and he realised that maybe he was no longer living, that Sam was somewhere on Earth crying over him. Sam was somewhere on Earth in  _ pain  _ because he was dead.

 

He slowly felt himself losing a grip on his conscious and slipping away from everything as the overwhelming feeling of anxiety and fear took over his whole body. 

 

**_Cas._ **

 

As Sam and Cas were reading over more books of lore, the blaring of Sam’s phone ringing interrupted them.

 

Cas watched as Sam reached over and looked at the screen.

 

“It’s Jody.” He told Cas before he answered.

 

“Hey Jody.” He greeted the sheriff. 

 

“Hi Sam.” She replied. Cas noted that her tone sounded off, almost as if she was hesitant to say something.

 

It seemed as if he wasn’t only one to pick up on it as he saw Sam frown.

 

“Jody, what’s going on?”

 

Cas heard her sigh and the sound of rustling on the other side. “So.. I did as you asked and kept in touch with some of the officers in Fort Wayne who are on the comatose patients case. Well…  one of them just rung me.”

 

Cas watched as Sam sat up straighter. “What did they say?”

 

“The first victim… Michael Thomas? He passed away last night. He… he began to deteriorate a few days ago, despite the fact that they had him hooked up to machines. Eventually, his organs began to shut down and at the family’s request… they turned off life support. I’m so sorry Sam.”

 

Sam closed his eyes and took a few moments to take in the news. Cas sat silently and waited until Sam finally responded.

 

“Yeah.. uh… thanks for letting me know Jody.”

 

“I’ll keep you updated on the progress of the others.” She replied. “Again… I’m sorry I didn’t have good news.”

 

Sam hung up the phone and placed it back on the table, tension visible all over his body. Cas opened his mouth to say something but Sam shook his head.

 

“Not…” He took a breath. “Not right now Cas.”

 

And then he swiftly stood up and exited out of the room. Cas groaned to himself and put his head in his hands, feeling frustrated that after several days of pouring through books and summoning demons, they still couldn’t find a thing. Not  _ one  _ thing that could help them save Dean. 

 

He lifted his head up and decided that he needed to do the one thing he didn’t want to have to do.

 

He needed to go and see his siblings. 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Day 9**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

When Dean eventually came to again, he realised that there were more memories and more snapshots that began to appear in his mind again.

 

He remembered waking up afterwards, confused for a moment about what had just happened. That was until he felt the ache and pain of his body and remembered the feeling of being torn to shreds. He could see through his own eyes the chains that held his arms and the dark, looming place he was trapped in. He felt the hoarseness of his throat as he yelled for Sam, wanting to find wherever his brother was.

 

He was interrupted however by a change in setting. He was strapped to a pole in a dark orange room with little to no lighting. He could hear moans from all around him, pained groans from other people. He went to talk, to shout hello at someone to find that his mouth was taped shut. He began to struggle, trying everything to free himself when he saw someone come into view. The face was startling, as if he was looking at the victim of a horrific crime. He began to struggle more as the thing approached him, coming up so it was only inches from his face. 

 

“You don’t have to be so  _ afraid,  _ Dean.” It hissed. “You know, you can be free of these any time you want.”

 

Suddenly the gag was removed from his mouth and he felt himself glaring at the monster.

 

“Oh yeah? What’s the catch?” He gasped out between pained struggles. The thing laughed, a metallic awful sound.

 

“You are smart, boy… I’ll give you that.” It replied. It held up it’s long nailed fingers and clicked, causing something nearby to come into view. It was a girl, tied up just like Dean, looking at him with wide scared eyes. She was probably someone just like Dean, who had made a deal for a loved one and had ended up with their soul in hell. 

 

The thing looked away from the girl and back to Dean, an evil smile on it’s horrifying face. 

 

“Here’s the deal. We’ll let you off here, won’t rip into your body like we do to everyone else.” For emphasis, they sliced through the stomach of the girl right in front of him. She let out a scream that Dean bet would’ve been deafening if it weren’t for her covered mouth. “Yet to do that, you are gonna have to do some of the slicing.”

 

Dean scoffed. “So you’re saying that the only way I don’t get tortured, is to torture others?”

 

The thing continued to smirk. “Like I said before… smart boy.”

 

Dean continued to struggle as he looked the thing dead in the eyes and forced a smile. “Go to hell.”

 

The monster just laughed again and suddenly the other person was no longer in view. It took a step back and just shrugged at Dean.

 

“Oh… I’m already there.”

 

And suddenly, all Dean could feel was pain. 

 

The next thirty years were a blur between getting sliced, diced and bruised. He remembered the way his body was torn to pieces everyday, slowly and painfully. It was worse than with the hellhounds, Dean remembered wishing that he could be ripped apart by hellhounds rather than the master torturers. Everyday after Dean got split apart and put back together - the monster would return to him. He found out it was a demon named Alastair and he or…  _ it  _ was the leader of the torturing of souls. He’d offer Dean the same deal every day and every day… Dean would curse at him with a list of unpleasant profanities -- some he couldn’t even remember. Then, the day would repeat as if the last one hadn’t existed. 

 

It happened for thirty years until all of a sudden, he couldn’t anymore.

 

He remembered Alastair coming over, opening his mouth to ask the deal when Dean interrupted him.

 

“I’ll do it.” He said through pained gasps. “I’ll… I’ll do it.”

 

He grinned wickedly. “Smart boy.”

 

Suddenly, he was released and was standing on solid ground for the first time in thirty years. As he turned to look at the pole, he saw it was replaced by that girl he’d seen all those years ago. She looked at him with fear in her eyes and… Dean couldn’t care. It was a sickening feeling, one that he can only feel guilt and self hatred for. But at the time, he just listened to Alastair’s instruction as he cut her apart, knowing it was better her than him.

 

And that happened for another ten years. Ten years of torturing soul after soul, ripping them to shreds. He did it robotically, putting no thought or feelings behind it. It became a routine to him, something he just did without any effort. He knew at the time that if he were to put any thought into it, he would just break down and be placed back on the rack. He was in Hell for eternity and there was no escaping it. He couldn’t let his emotions stop him from doing his best to survive.

 

Then one day, throughout his moments of torture - he heard screaming. He blinked and turned to look at where Alastair was standing, to find that he had disappeared. He noticed that the soul he had been torturing had also disappeared too. He began to look around, confused as to what was happening when he heard a sound behind him. 

 

He turned around only to be blinded by a bright light and a high pitched frequency. He fell to the ground and covered his eyes… just as everything began to fade around him in a flood of white.

 

**_Cas._ **

 

With his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat, Cas approached the playground cautiously, looking around for any sign of angels on guard. He spotted one immediately, Purah, in a child vessel swinging on a swing set.

 

“Purah.” He greeted her, entering the clearance. 

 

She looked up at him, giving him a curt nod.

 

“Castiel. Do you seek entrance to Heaven?” She asked, her authoritative tone sounding soft in the small voice.

 

“Yes. I do. Are you able to contact Hannah for me?”

 

She gave another short nod and closed her eyes. It didn’t take long for her to open her eyes again and the sandpit suddenly brighten with a white light. As the light dimmed, Hannah stepped out in her female vessel, giving Cas a small smile. 

 

“Castiel. It’s good to see you.”

 

“It’s good to see you too Hannah. Thank you for seeing me.”

 

“We owe you gratitude Castiel. Now come with me. Let’s talk.”

 

He followed her into heaven and into the throne room where God once sat. He’d already contacted her and explained his situation to her. He knew that while his expertise wasn’t in witchcraft, there were angels that had studied Earth for over a millenia, angels that may know a thing or two about ancient witchcraft. He asked Hannah to find out everything she knew. 

 

As they arrived in the throne room, Hannah looked at Castiel with a sympathetic gaze.

 

“Castiel… I talked to all the angels I could but… no one really knew anything. This magic you are describing is far above our expertise.”

 

“What do you mean? What about Joshua’s garrison? They watched the Earth for many years.”

 

“Joshua isn’t in Heaven anymore, in fact we have no idea where he is at this point in time. Two of his garrison died in the civil war and another in the fall. Two more survived but I think they were compromised around the time of the battles on Earth, under Metatron’s rule. If anyone knew anything about that witchcraft it would be them but… they’re all gone.”

 

Hannah sighed.

 

“I wish I could do more to help you Castiel, but our numbers are limit--”

 

“What about Metatron?” Castiel said, interrupting the other angel. “I need to speak with him.”

 

“We  _ tried  _ that Castiel.” Hannah explained, a slight impatience to her tone. “Not only was he unknowing but he found the whole situation humorous. He was taunting you and the Winchesters. He told me that he felt that Dean deserved it… that he deserved death.”

 

Cas took a few moments to take in what Hannah had said. He’d gone to the angels at a last resort, hoping that at least  _ they’d  _ be able to give  _ some  _ answers. He didn’t want to owe his brothers and sisters as they take acts of gratitude quite seriously, but he’d do anything to have Dean healed. Yet to find out that even the angels were clueless about the curse was disheartening. 

 

With a sigh, he thanked Hannah and exited Heaven. As he made his way back to the car, he could feel the heaviness of his shoulders from an invisible weight. Cas realised it was defeat... he had well and truly begun to give up. 


	10. Chapter Nine

**Day 10**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

Dean remembered waking up from hell, feeling claustrophobic and scared as he realised he was trapped in a small wooden box. He remembered the soreness of his throat as he attempted to scream for help. He remembered the taste of dirt as it got in his mouth. He remembered suffocating as he attempted to climb his way through the thick brown soil and the feeling of relief as he breathed in fresh air.

 

He could remember hell at the time, as clear as day. Yet his last moments in Hell were hazy. He now realised that version of himself didn’t remember the flood of white light, from whatever creature had enabled him to escape. Though he knew then and now that it was something big as he looked around at the many trees that had all been knocked down to smithereens.

 

The next two days became a haze between reunions with Sam and their father figure Bobby, to trying to find out what had pulled him out of hell. From the screeching noise and shattering of glass he experienced multiple times, to the poor psychic Pamela getting her eyes burnt out, Dean at the time had no idea what was going on. He remembered the searing pain from the handprint on his arm and the way Pamela had said it’s name. _Castiel._

 

He remembered talking to Bobby and realising the only thing they could do was summon the thing. What else did they have to lose?

 

He felt transported back to the moment the roof on the shed began to bang and clank violently and the light bulbs around them began to burst. He put his head down, trying to cover his head and eyes for getting even more cut up from pieces of shattered glass. It was then that he heard the shed doors open and as he peaked up through the lights going haywire, he saw a man walking towards them.

 

Bobby spotted the man at the same time and the both of them immediately raised their guns and began to shoot him. Yet, he continued to walk with a dead stare on the both of them. Their bullets lodged in his body, but it didn’t even seem to phase him in the slightest.

 

He remembered exchanging a look with Bobby and swiftly reaching behind him for Ruby’s knife and keeping it behind his back.

 

“Who are you?” He asked the man. What he really meant though was… _what are you?_

 

The man looked at him with a foreign gaze and spoke in a deep, gruff voice. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

 

While the thought: _who even speaks like that?_ Raced through Dean’s mind, he got ready to strike.

 

“Yeah thanks for that.” He said just as he hurtled the knife straight into the man’s heart. He took a step back immediately as the man froze for a second and looked out at the handle of the knife which jutted out of his chest. He watched as he blinked, grabbed the handle and slowly pulled it out while staring at Dean. He then dropped it and gave Dean an almost amused, albeit slightly pissed off stare.

 

Bobby went to strike but before he could, the man grabbed the crowbar with the quickest reflexes Dean had ever seen. He turned around and touched two fingers to Bobby’s forehead and Dean watched in horror as Bobby fell to the ground. The man turned back around and stared at Dean with a distance behind his eyes.

 

“We need to talk, Dean.” He said, giving a quick glance to the unconscious Bobby. “Alone.”

 

The next few minutes went in a blur between Dean dropping to the ground to check on Bobby to him interrogating the man. He revealed himself to be Castiel, which Dean of course figured, and that he was “an angel of the Lord.” He still couldn’t believe it, reliving the experience. At the time, he didn’t believe a single word of it -- thinking this dude was just bullshitting him. Whilst now even though he was incredulous, at the same time something deep inside him made him realise that Castiel was in fact telling the truth.

 

He remembered standing up and attempting to challenge Castiel, only to see the light show and the way the shadows of Castiel’s wings stretched out across the whole back wall of the shed. He remembered still adamantly refusing to believe, refusing to accept that angels and God and Heaven had always been true. That these creatures were always around but never stepped in to intervene in the slightest. He also couldn’t believe that creatures this powerful… had rescued _him._ Had gone through all the trouble of picking _him._ Why? He didn’t understand. So he had asked Castiel straight to his face.

 

The angel was confused and asked Dean _what's the matter?_  He remembered the way he tilted his head and stared at Dean with what only could resemble puppy dog eyes. And then, as if he was staring into Dean’s soul, he deadpanned:

 

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

 

The words at the time, hit something in Dean and he remembered beginning to shake, just in the slightest. He clenched his fists by his side and just huffed a small laugh, ignoring the statement.

 

Though looking back, he realised that he was a person who wasn’t happy with who he was. Someone who would rather sacrifice himself than let himself be in pain. It was simple to see as he reflected on the scene through the eyes of this version of himself and felt the hate he had for his own being. The hatred that caused him to ask why he… of all people… deserved redemption. Why he of all people, was chosen by God… or as “God commanded it.”

 

He remembered looking at the angel with a feeling of confusion and dislike. Despite the fact he may have brought him back, he didn’t care for him or what he seemed to stand for. At the time, the angel was too indifferent for Dean’s liking… too strange and foreign. He still could see how the angel looked that way through the memory, but he had a niggling feeling deep inside him that there was more to this angel. Whatever version of himself now didn’t see the angel negatively… in fact, there was this warmth he felt instead. He didn’t know why or how he felt this way, but he knew one way or another… that he was going to find out.

  


**_Cas._ **

 

The next morning Jody called to inform Sam that the second victim had also died. It had caused the atmosphere to sour for the morning, until Sam received a second call from Garth just before midday. Apparently, one of his hunter contacts had called him back and said that he’d seen a similar case be solved. Said he was willing to meet Sam and show him the spell. Sam seemed to have a more optimistic feel to him as he left the bunker after the meeting was arranged. Cas on the other hand, didn’t know how positive he felt considering not even the angels knew anything. So he decided to just go and sit by Dean until Sam returned.

 

He sat on the chair beside Dean, looking at the lifeless body with an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Being ten days unconscious had already done damage to Dean’s body despite the IV bags he was hooked up to. His muscles had weakened so that his arms had thinned out, along with his legs. Facial hair had begun to build up on his face and his hair had grown and thinned out. Dark circles were under his eyes, even though he was constantly asleep. It was painful for Cas to see… especially since he knew there was no way for him to help his friend.

 

As he leant back and watched Dean, he felt his grace flare in his veins and begin bubbling to the surface. He’d been resting and letting his grace rebuild itself after everything that happened over a week prior. It was almost as if it was telling Cas that it was ready, that it was time for him to try again. He didn’t want to gain hope only for it be lost but he knew he owed it to Dean to try, even if there was a major chance that it wouldn’t work.

 

So with a sigh, he leant forward and grabbed Dean’s head with both of his hands. He felt the grace pour him and the way it heightened his gaze. He saw through Dean, saw the way his muscles and bones were starting to weaken from the lack of movement and level of nutrition that his body was used to. He saw the way his organs had weakened as well, the way his stomach usually appearing as an empty pit… had shrunk. He attempted to heal him, tried to get his muscles and bones back to the way they should be. Yet, again it was almost as if there was a forcefield… he wasn’t able to.

 

He went to Dean’s mind and touched it, wanting to see if there was anything he could see. At first, there was nothing but black as per usual. Nothing but empty. Though, he pressed forward trying to grasp onto anything. He wasn’t ready to give up just now, knowing that there could _still_ be something more. So he poured more of his grace in as he dug deeper into Dean’s mind and then all of a sudden, _there it was._

 

__

 

It was a split second flicker, a small memory that popped up from Dean’s mind and then disappeared again. Cas saw himself, through the eyes of Dean. It was in Pontiac, when Dean and Cas came face to face when Cas had taken Jimmy Novak as his vessel. He could see himself looking at Dean, just for a split second, before it faded to black again.

 

He pulled his grace away and returned to normal. He laid Dean’s head back down carefully on the pillow and sat back in his chair, processing what he’d just seen. He felt himself smile for the first time in a long time as he realised that Dean was still _there_ . He may have been buried deep in his mind by the curse, but he was still active. He could still _remember_ Cas.

 

It made him realise that they had hope. If Dean was still fighting… then so would they.

 


	11. Chapter Ten

**Day 11**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

The days that led up to the final showdown in Stull Cemetery was a constant battle between a destined path and free will. Not only was it a constant fight for Dean and Sam to not give into being the vessels for two powerful archangels, but for their new found friend Castiel -- who risked his whole identity and livelihood in order to save the brothers. 

 

The change in Castiel was small and happened over a long time. First upon meeting him, Dean was afraid of what the angel could do to him. He was strong, a warrior and he had no concern for humanity. While he saved Dean from the pits of hell, he did it because it was his duty. He did it because Dean was the Michael sword, the vessel of the eldest archangel. Cas had to save him because the apocalypse was destined to happen. 

 

Yet over time, Dean watched as the angel filled with doubt. From reliving the memories, he was able to see the fragmented timeline of Castiel’s journey. He watched him begin to change, watched the guilt that begun to fill every fibre of his being. He watched as Castiel experienced what he called “re-education” and the way it had made him stone cold, almost as if he were a robot reprogrammed. 

 

Though a part of him still remained the same and finally, he rebelled against heaven. He saved Dean from Zachariah’s clutches and got killed by an archangel for doing so. He died fighting for Sam and Dean and despite all that he had done previously to them, Dean couldn’t help but feel guilty. Which was why when Cas saved them yet again, alive and well… Dean had never felt more relieved. 

 

Then came the year of Team Free Will. Sam, Dean and Cas all fighting for their freedom. Fighting against hell, fighting against heaven, fighting against destiny. For a small time, Dean thought they were going to make it. That they were going to defeat fate. Until Sam said yes in Detroit and Lucifer took control of his little brother. Cas and Bobby gave up at that point, the light and fight gone out of both of their eyes. Yet Dean wasn’t going to give up, which is how he found himself in Stull Cemetery.

 

Looking back on the memory, he remembered how scared he had felt. The fear that flooded through him, despite the facade he put on. He remembered looking at his two little brothers; Sam and his half brother Adam -- knowing full well they weren’t his little brothers anymore. They were two brothers, who had resented each other for millenniums. They were two brothers who were going to fight to the death all because that was how the story had been written. The story Dean tried so hard to rewrite. 

 

He remembered being ready to be torn to pieces by the archangels, when Bobby and Cas came onto the scene. He remembered Cas blasting Michael away for a few minutes, just to give Dean some time. Dean remembered watching in horror as Lucifer then obliterated Cas to pieces, Dean watching as the angel who had rebelled for him had died yet again for his freedom. He watched as Bobby died, the man who was more of a father to him than his own. Watched as Lucifer, in the form of his little brother, beat the crap out of him and smashed him into his beloved car. He remembered comforting Sam in the process, knowing it wasn’t his little brother’s fault. Knowing that his little brother would try blame himself for Dean’s death, despite the fact that it would all be Lucifer.

 

Then, somehow, Sam took back the reins. He was himself again for a moment. He said goodbye and while grabbing Michael, he opened the gate and dragged them both into the cage in hell. Then, it was silent. Dean was left with two deceased friends, a bruised body and the aftermath of his brother sacrificing himself to end the apocalypse. 

 

It took him a few moments of suffering to feel the presence next to him, to realise someone was standing beside him. He looked up startled to see Castiel looking down at him in the glistening afternoon sun, his eyes mournful. He gently placed his fingers on Dean’s forehead and suddenly, Dean could no longer feel pain. His body was healed. He looked back at his friend and carefully got to his feet, staring at Cas with a wave of emotions rushing through him. Thoughts crossed his mind: How did Cas get here? Was he resurrected? Was  _ he  _ God? He asked the last question aloud, causing Cas to laugh a small sound. When he confirmed he was not, he then went over and healed Bobby, to which Dean felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Looking back on the memory, Dean couldn’t help but note the warmth and comfort he’d felt at that point. Sure, his brother was gone and the hole inside Dean’s heart was too big to be fixed. Yet, Cas’ presence and knowing he was still alive had made Dean feel a small bit of joy, even in the circumstances. He don’t think his past self had noticed it at the time, had rather just played it off as being glad to be alive. Yet as he relived the memory, he couldn’t help but note that it was a little bit more than that. 

 

As Bobby drove off, both Cas and Dean got in the Impala and sped off from the gravesite, leaving the destruction in their wake. At first, Dean wondered what was going to happen from now on. Maybe he’d continue to hunt by himself, or maybe -- he’d have Cas by his side. They could continue to be two-thirds of Team Free Will. He had no idea. Though Cas was still there, sitting in the passenger seat -- even after he had just died yet again for Dean.

 

Though before he could even think about it any further, Cas said he needed to back to Heaven. He told Dean that the abrupt end of the apocalypse was going to cause chaos and mayhem for the angels - that they needed a new leader. His words had cut into Dean, even if he hadn’t realised it at the time. Looking back he knew that Dean was upset about the thought of Cas leaving him again, especially to return to Heaven. It made him angry and he snapped at Cas, taking out his frustration for Sam’s death, for God, for the whole screw up and misfortune that was his life on his one and only friend. Cas had paused and listened, before he looked at Dean and uttered the words:  _ “What would you rather have peace… or freedom?”  _ Cas then  left him once again without a goodbye. His words sunk into Dean, repeating as if they were a mantra in his head. 

 

He went to Bobby’s and hugged him goodbye, knowing that he wouldn’t be seeing him for a long time. After Cas’ departure, he knew what he was now going to do. Without his brother, without Cas… he knew that hunting was no longer an option. It was how he ended up in Cicero, on the front doorstep of Lisa Braedan. He remembered falling into her arms and knowing that this was where he was going to say. He had no Sam. He had no Cas. He had no peace. Yet… he had Lisa and her son. It wasn’t the life Dean ever pictured he’d have, wasn’t the life he ever thought he would actually want. But in that moment, after the day’s, month's and year's events…

 

It was enough.

 

**_Cas._ **

 

Cas was waiting in the map room when Sam returned home. He looked up at Sam with a smile on his face, only for it to diminish when he saw the sour look on his friend.

 

“What’s the matter?” He asked.  

 

Sam sighed. “The lead we got from that other hunter? Dead end. He’d seen a similar case before but… it definitely wasn’t the same thing. Meaning we’re back to square one.”

 

“Not necessarily.” Cas replied, his smile returning.

 

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Follow me.”

 

Cas lead Sam back to the infirmary, where Dean continued to remain unconscious. He gestured to one of the seats which Sam hesitantly sat down in. 

 

“Yesterday I attempted to heal Dean again. And although I was unsuccessful, I was able to catch a glimpse of something.”

 

He saw Sam sit up a little straighter as he looked him straight in the eye.

 

“What’d you see?”

 

“I saw myself… through Dean’s eyes.” Cas explained. “It was when I first met him in my human vessel in Pontiac, Illinois. I saw me staring at him, as if it were a memory perhaps.”

 

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “What does that even mean?”

 

“I’m not sure. Maybe Dean is reliving memories or just dreaming in his comatose state. Either way, it’s good news. It means he is somewhere in there, mentally conscious and well. It was the first glimpse of some thoughts and recollection I had seen amongst the black. It means he is fighting.”

 

Sam’s face had already brightened and he leant forward. “Well… can you see anything now?”

 

“I’ll try.”

 

He reached over and grabbed Dean’s head with his hands again, feeling under his skin for the familiar thrum of his own energy. He watched as his grace poured into Dean, attempting to look into his mind and search for another memory or thought. A few seconds passed, which slowly turned into minutes. At first, Cas just wondered if it was in another part of Dean’s mind, if he wasn’t digging hard enough. But the further he looked and the more grace he used, the less and less he saw. He ended up trying for five minutes, to the point he began to shake and pant from exhausting his grace too much. 

 

“Cas, stop!” Sam yelled. Cas did as he was told and retracted his grace, groaning as he felt the depleted energy inside of him recoil to try and rebuild itself. He slumped down on the chair, exhausted and drained… wanting nothing more to fall asleep right then and there. Sam was instantly by his side, a hand on his shoulder as he asked him if he was alright. 

 

“I’m fine... just tired.” Cas responded. “I really tried Sam but… there was nothing. I couldn’t see anything like yesterday.” 

 

Cas watched as Sam forced a small smile and gave Cas a small pat. 

 

“It’s okay Cas, I know you tried.”

 

He looked over at Sam to see that the brightness no longer there. Instead his face was full of dread and doubt. He got up from kneeling beside Cas and headed for the door.

 

“I’m going to go do some more reading.” He said. He then walked out the door and towards the library. Cas signed and grabbed the roots of his hair, frustrated. Their hope was fading fast… along with their time.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Day 12**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

Dean didn’t know the prospect of having a soul was so important until he met his brother soulless. Dean had always had this warmth and love for his brother, but that feeling hadn’t been the same even after the reunion. There was something different, something off. Sam was different, strange… almost robotic. He had this pinched look on his face constantly and his eyes void of any emotion. It didn’t take long for Dean to realise that no matter how many supernatural tests he passed -- salt, silver, holy water… this wasn’t his brother. 

 

Finding out from Cas that Sam was soulless was a hit in the stomach. To find out that his brother had the same body, thoughts and memories… yet had no emotions and no soul. To find out that his soul made him who he was… it confused and scared Dean. He always thought he himself had no soul, that he was void of one himself. Though to see that it wasn’t the case, that  _ actually  _ having no soul was far, far worse… made him question what really made a person. What really made a person’s soul so unique? 

 

While Dean fought for Sam’s soul, Cas fought Raphael in Heaven. At first, Dean hadn’t really cared to much about Cas’ duties, nor the angelic civil war. He cared about Lisa and Ben and being thrusted back into the hunting world without warning. He cared about being angry, at Sam and Bobby for not telling Dean about Sam being alive and well. He cared about Samuel Campbell and the absolute nut job his grandfather turned out to be. Though as time went on, after Samuel died and Sam got his soul back and they were actually able to gank Eve, the mother of  _ all  _ evil… they noticed a change in Cas. Well, Sam and Bobby did. They judged him, they were wary of him. Dean wasn’t. After all that time, after the amount of times Cas had fought and sacrificed himself for them… he wasn’t going to give up on his best friend. Not in the slightest. 

 

Though Cas revealed his true colours, that he’d been spying on them. And after being trapped in the holy fire, he revealed all. He said how he was the one to rescue Sam from hell, accidentally without a soul. How he was working with Crowley, the king of Hell. How he was trying to get souls from purgatory so that he could defeat Raphael. He looked sorrowful and stared at Dean with sadness and guilt in his eyes. Dean couldn’t help but feel betrayed and wanted nothing more than for Cas to just _listen_ to him. Looking back on the memory, the feeling of betrayal hurt so much more coming from Cas. He’d been betrayed by Bobby and Sam in that past year and he’d been furious at the both of them. Yet it didn’t hurt the same way... it wasn’t the same pain lingering in his gut. 

 

When Cas took the souls in the end, he changed almost completely. To the point where he was unrecognisable. Even after begging him as his family to stop, Cas barely gave him a second look and told him that he wasn’t his family. They barely made it out of there alive, if it wasn’t for Cas having the smallest slither of his heart not to kill them. 

 

They tried to find ways to stop Cas, mostly involving the horseman Death. While he was pissed at the Winchesters for trapping him in order to get him to kill Cas, he ended up helping them as he didn’t want to see Cas self destruct and destroy the world. He gave them a solution, one that didn’t involve the death of their friend. Dean remembered the look Death gave him, almost as if he  _ knew _ . While past Dean would of said the reason they went to Death was because Cas was too strong to kill, both he and Death knew that the real reason was because he knew he wouldn’t be able to kill Cas no matter what. 

 

Cas relented in the end, too scared of the souls that were consuming him and wreaking havoc on the Earth. He was mad at Cas of course, pretending to not take the apology that Cas gave him before they opened up the purgatory portal. Yet as Cas stood in front of him, turning back to stare at Dean with sad eyes and apologise, he couldn’t help but feel that pang in his chest. When Cas collapsed afterwards, Dean felt relieved to find that he wasn’t dead. He was prepared for them to move on from this, to take Cas under their wing and let him make up for all the hurt he caused. That was until the Leviathans took over and Cas’ face morphed into something unrecognisable. He watched as the Leviathans began to tear apart his vessel, to the point even those creatures knew they needed to go. Dean watched as the Leviathans walked Cas out of the compound and into the reserve, sinking him under so that he was no longer to be seen. Then, an explosion of black as the Leviathans spread their depths into the water, across the whole town to take on any unwilling soul. 

 

While they all freaked out over the prospect of Leviathans taking over the world, Dean couldn’t help but notice the trench-coat that laid floating in the water, the last remnant of Castiel they had. He picked it up, the soaking wet item of clothing and cradled it into his hands. He felt the tears well up in his eyes and the sob caught at the back of this throat but he ignored it, pushing it down and saving it for another time. 

 

Dean had experienced Cas’ death before and both times it had sucked… a lot. Though he knew in his heart that this time was different. And looking back, he knew exactly why it was different. 

 

It always hurts more when you lose someone you love.

 

**_Cas._ **

 

It had just passed 11pm when Cas decided that he needed to move. He left his position by Dean’s bed to wander down the hall, past Sam’s room. Ever since Sam’s hope had been lost again, he’d been quieter than Cas had even seen him. He was ultimately worried, considering Sam had spent the last night up and pouring through the books again. So he found himself at his door, listening in to see if he could hear any sign of movement. It was silent and upon peaking in, Cas was happy to see that Sam was sleeping for the first time in a few nights. So as to not disturb him, Cas left the room and continued to walk down the hall and away from the sleeping quarters. He hadn't even moved a few steps before he heard the phone ring from the kitchen. It was Sam’s ringtone and although it was too quiet for Sam to hear, Cas could. 

 

He rapidly walked to the kitchen, grabbing the phone from where it was charging. He answered with a gruff hello. 

 

“Um… hello? This is Sam’s phone right? Who am I speaking to?”

 

Cas recognised the voice as Jody, the sheriff. 

 

“Sorry, um… My name is Castiel. Cas. I am a friend of Sam and Dean’s?”

 

“Right, Cas!” Jody exclaimed with glee. “Of course. I’m Jody, also a friend of Sam and Dean’s. It’s good to finally be speaking to you… I just wish it wasn’t in these circumstances.”

 

“Me too.” Cas replied. 

 

“I was calling Sam to inform him of some bad news. The third victim? They just passed away an hour ago. One of the local cops called to inform me. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

 

Cas could feel his heart sink at the news. The victims of the hex were beginning to decline rapidly. There were only two more left before it was Dean’s turn. They didn’t have long before they would be close to losing their friend.

 

“Ah… thank you for informing me. I’ll… I’ll pass on the news to Sam.”

 

“Thank you. Tell him I’ll keep in touch. It was nice to finally meet you Cas… even if it was over the phone.”

 

“You too... Jody.” Cas responded.

 

They hung up the phone. Cas sighed to himself and leant forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was a mannerism he’d learnt from Dean and one that he found himself doing at times of distress and discomfort. He straightened up with a small sigh and proceeded to head back to the infirmary, wanting to make sure Dean was still alright. 

 

He walked into the room and straight to Dean’s bed, peering over at the unconscious body. Despite any hope he may have had, there was definitely no change. He was still pale and still, only the sound of his slow heart and soft breaths to confirm that he was still alive. Cas took a long breath and proceeded to go and get a chair to sit and do his nightly watch, when a voice interrupted him.

 

“He is not doing well, is he?” 

 

Cas snapped his head up and turned towards where the sound had come from. It was there that he saw the horseman, Death, sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. He had a small side table next to him, with a greasy basket of nachos on top of it. He also appeared to have a soda, which he took a moment to drink through the straw. Cas stood still and felt his blade manifest in his hand.

 

“You should know by now Castiel that your blade won’t work on me.” Death deadpanned. 

 

“You’re not going to take Dean. It isn’t his time.” Cas snapped. Death didn’t reply at first, taking his time to pick up a corn chip lathered in salsa and eat it. He seemed unfazed by Cas’ angry glare. 

 

“No, it’s not his time… not right at this moment.” Death said. “But it will be soon, that much is obvious. Within a week, he is going to be dead.”

 

Although Cas knew that the possibility was more than likely coming, Death’s words hit him like a ton of bricks.

 

“Which is why I’ve decided to pay you a visit.” Death continued. “While yourself and the Winchesters are like a thorn in my side and make my job that much more difficult -- I happen to have a certain fondness for you three, which is why I am here out of courtesy.”

 

He took another sip of his soda.

 

“The hex Dean has is an immortal one. It will continue on even if the host or summoner of the spell is dead. The witch? One of the first generation of witches that Eve created. Her spells are more powerful than you could ever imagine. And unfortunately, Dean caught her attention… negatively.”

 

“If her spells are immortal and she’s so powerful… why was I able to kill her?” Cas asked.

 

“Her spells are immortal, she herself was not.”

 

They were silent for a moment as Death continued to eat his nachos. Cas looked back over at Dean.

 

“How long does he have?” Cas ended up asking, dreading the answer he would receive. 

 

Death made a small, humming sound. “Three days, maybe even four if he is lucky.”

 

Cas gulped as an overwhelming emotion rose in him. He stared at Dean, feeling the pain knowing that he had less days to live than Cas had originally thought. 

 

“You aren’t prepared, I know.” Death spoke. “You thought you’d have more time, time to actually accept those human feelings you have for him.”

 

Cas pretended that Death was lying and attempted to keep his face impassive, but the horseman saw through him. 

 

“I know the real reason, the main reason why you abandoned everything you knew for Earth.” Death stated. “You rebelled and fell for a reason Castiel, it wasn’t all about saving the world but rather one particular human.”

 

Cas stayed silent.

 

“And now with this human’s impending departure, too soon than you thought, you are concerned. You wanted more time, time to actually tell Dean the truth. Now that it’s running out, you are unable to accept it.”

 

Cas watched as Death finished the nachos next to him, along with his soda. He then manifested a napkin, wiping his hands with it before balling it up and placing it into the empty basket. He looked back over at Cas with emotionless eyes.

 

“Heed my warning Castiel. Say goodbye, before it’s too late.” 

 

And before Cas could say anything, Death vanished leaving nothing but a basket full of trash.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Day 13**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

He had enough of the world trying to take Sam from him.

 

First, it was at Cold Oak with Jake. Then it was Ruby, soaking Sam up with all the demon blood she could offer. Then it was Lucifer and the cage and Sam without his soul. No matter how hard he tried, something was always happening with his little brother. Then Cas broke his wall and Sam was left with hallucinations of Lucifer and of the torture he had faced. He was stuck inside his own head and there was nothing Dean could do but watch his brother be trapped in a mental asylum. 

 

So, he turned to his hunter connections. With Cas and Bobby both dead, he had no one to turn to but them. He researched and called and messaged anyone he could find, all leading to dead ends. Until the business card for a man named Mackey fell on the floor. And through Mackey, he wound up on the doorstep of Emmanuel Allen who revealed himself to be Castiel. 

 

He was relieved and shocked for a split second when he found out Cas was alive, only to be bombarded again when he realised Cas had no idea who he was. Cas had no idea who he  _ himself  _ was. He was married and was living a life as a healer. He seemed happy. He was happy without Dean, Sam, Bobby… without the family he once knew. This pained Dean but he worked through it, pretending to be unfazed. Yet he was hurt, hurt over Cas’ actions and the fact that Cas was happy with someone else. Dean looking back on the memory, realised his past self didn’t know this. But the memory was fresh and clear in his mind and through looking at it through a new perspective, it was insanely obvious. He was  _ jealous.  _ He was hurt because he was  _ jealous _ .

 

Then after a showdown at the asylum, Cas remembered. Dean hated that it hurt Cas to remember, that he couldn’t help but snap at Dean that he deserved to die. It was so far from the truth, too far. While Dean would always be mad at Cas for betraying them, he never in a million years would think that his friend deserved death. Not in the absolute slightest. 

 

So instead of death, Cas did the only thing he could do. He sacrificed himself yet again for the Winchesters by taking on Sam’s curse. All Dean could do was watch as Cas sunk into the hole that Sam had just been in, scared and lifeless because of the hallucinations haunting him. And Dean wasn’t able to stay… they still had Leviathans on their tail and a world to save. So again, Dean abandoned Cas at the hands of Meg and the asylum, leaving his friend a shadow of himself in order to save the world. 

 

Dean remembered the thought that crossed their mind as they drove away, a fleeting thought that he attempted to forget about the very second after he thought it.

 

_ What’s the point in saving the world… if I can’t even save Cas? _

 

**_Cas._ **

 

Cas was sitting in the kitchen when Sam awoke, watching as the Winchester wandered in a straight to the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup and sat across from Cas, yawning as he said his morning greeting. He stopped short however, when he noticed the look on Cas’ face.

 

“What’s wrong, Cas?” He asked.

 

Cas sighed. “Everything, Sam.”

 

He went on to detail the events of the previous night. About the phone call from Jody to Death’s words to Cas. The whole time, Sam listened quietly but Cas could see him getting angrier and angrier with each word Cas spoke. When he finished, Sam glared daggers at Cas.

 

“So you just decided to wait until morning to tell me all of this? Why the hell didn’t you wake me up, Cas?”

 

“Well I’m  _ sorry  _ Sam that in the moment, I didn’t think to  _ wake you up _ . Especially after you haven’t slept for  _ days. _ ”

 

“Don’t over exaggerate Cas, I too have slept.” Sam whined as if he were a petulant child. 

 

“Not the hours that humans need to function properly, believe me I would know.” 

 

“How the hell would you know? You were only human for like a day.” Sam retorted. 

 

Cas locked eyes on Sam in a deadly gaze. “It was far longer than a day Sam. Yes, it was much shorter compared to the many decades you have lived as humans but for someone who went from being an angel for millenniums to a human? It was a shock. You and Dean wouldn’t know however, because I was told to leave after barely a week of being human.”

 

Cas watched as Sam’s face softened. “Cas… you know I didn’t --”

 

“I know Sam, but maybe next time you should think before saying such insensitive things.” Cas stated crisply. “You think I don’t know you two or your human tendencies just because I was only human for a short while. But you seem to forget that I’ve observed you for far too long, watched as you both have self destructed because of your lack of rest. I thought the least I could do was provide you a night of minimal worries, but apparently that means I’m selfish for trying to spare you.”

 

The anger had drained out of Sam and he sent Cas a sad look. “Cas --”

 

“If you’ll excuse me.” Cas said, getting up out of his seat and immediately storming out of the room. He needed to leave this place immediately, even if it was for only a short while. He could feel the way the tension of the last two weeks was creeping up on him, ready to explode. 

 

Cas felt the bunker door slam behind him, which was when he finally let his anger get to him. He looked at the rock next to him on the ground and as if he were driven by pure force, he kicked it as hard as he could. He watched as if flew through the air, continuing on an upward trajectory across the vast space of land. It landed far away, further from where Cas could see. He took in a deep breath and while the kicking helped, it didn’t seem to calm the storm inside of him. 

 

He turned to look for another rock when he heard the sound of an engine. He looked at the road with confusion, to see a spot of yellow in the distance. As it got closer, he realised it was a car driving towards him… a yellow car. He was perplexed for a few moments, concerned as to how a yellow car had ended up all the way over here outside the isolated bunker. He watched as it pulled up a fair few feet away and listened as the engine was turned off. It didn’t take long for the driver’s door to open and for a young woman to step out. She was small, with short curly red hair and a large black bag over her shoulder. She gleefully approached Cas, taking in the sight of the man before her as she did.

 

“I’m guessing from the trench-coat that you must be Castiel!” She greeted cheerfully, immediately opening her arms and pulling him into an embrace. He was uncomfortable and was grateful when the hug was cut short. She pulled back and squinted slightly.

 

“I thought you’d be taller.”

 

Cas frowned. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

 

The girl laughed. “Don’t be! I’m pretty short too… Sam and Dean give me enough grief about it.”

 

She outstretched her hand.

 

“I’m Charlie, it’s nice to meet you!”

 

Immediately, Cas relaxed upon understanding who the girl before him was. Of course he had heard of Charlie, she was practically an additional family member to the Winchesters.

 

“It’s… nice to meet you too. But… what are you doing here? I thought Sam told you not to come.”

 

Charlie shrugged. “He did…  but I had a reason not to listen to him.”

 

Cas raised an eyebrow. “What reason?”

 

Charlie paused as she let a large giant grin form on her face.

 

“I found a cure for Dean.”


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I, the author, uses google translate for the latin.  
> So, please excuse any errors!

**Day 13 (continued)**

 

**_Dean._ **

 

The worst memory that came to his head was the day he betrayed Cas. 

 

He knew it was a recent memory, it was overly fresh in his mind. Not like the other memories that had this vagueness to them. This one was raw, like a fresh wound. 

 

He remembered Cas and him being sent to purgatory and his journey to return home to Earth. From feeling like he abandoned Cas and the guilt and pain that came from that, to realising Cas let him go because he didn’t want to be saved. To finding Cas brainwashed by Heaven and begging him to remember their friendship, to remember that they were family. For Cas to suddenly break the control they had over him and to run away with the tablet in order to try and save it. He remembered Cas thinking by working for Metatron he was helping the world and then all of a sudden, seeing the angels fall and realising that Cas had become human. He remembered Sam’s journey with the trials to try and seal the gates to Hell, only for them to pretty much kill him in the process. He remembered tricking Sam into accepting Ezekiel into him so that he could be healed subconsciously. 

 

He fought to find Cas once he realised his friend was human, searching across the country for wherever his friend could be. He found him, just before he was stabbed and murdered by a reaper. Dean remembered wanting nothing more to fall to the ground right then and there as he saw the pained face of his friend taking his last breath. Instead, he let the vengeance fuel him and made sure to kill the cold hearted reaper bitch right then and there. 

 

He remembered the feeling of cradling Cas’ head in his hands, wanting nothing more for him to open his eyes. But his skin was cold, his lips were pale and he couldn’t feel a pulse. If it wasn’t for Ezekiel committing an act of kindness and resurrecting Cas, Dean was sure he would've never been able to see his friend ever again. When Cas spoke his name and Dean turned to see his blue eyes looking at him, he wanted nothing more than to blurt out everything he was feeling and thinking at that point. To be honest, Dean didn’t even know what he was thinking and feeling at that point. All he knew was that he was scared to say it and he wanted nothing more than to repress, repress,  _repress_.

 

So all he could tell Cas was,  _ Don’t ever do that again!  _ To which Cas replied with  _ alright.  _

 

They filed back to the bunker and Cas looked happy again, he looked safe and comfortable. Dean felt happy, knowing that now both his brother and best friend were healthy and alive. That was until Cas left the room to eat and Ezekiel revealed himself, telling Dean he had a choice. Cas was either to leave the bunker or Ezekiel would leave Sam, meaning that his brother would succumb to his internal injuries. 

 

He had a choice to make and before the memory was even made clear, Dean knew that he regretted that choice whole heartedly. 

 

He relived the memory in dread, watching through his past eyes as he walked over to Cas, whose eyes were beaming with delight. He watched as he spoke the words:  _ “You can’t stay.”  _ and watched as the light faded from Cas. His eyes sunk, his face morphed into just clear and painful sadness as he took in Dean’s words. 

 

Dean never told him why, just watched him leave the house and onto the streets -- with nowhere to go. As soon as the bunker door shut, Dean practically sprinted for the bathroom and threw up into the toilet, the emotional turmoil being too much for him to handle. Sam had found him like that, asking him what was wrong and where did Cas go. He couldn’t help but make some lie up about Cas and just said that the sickness was food poisoning, which wasn’t surprising considering how greasy the food was. While Sam seemed to buy it, it just made Dean’s guilt worse. 

 

The memory faded to another one and soon another piece-by-piece timeline formed in his head. He watched as Cas attempted to move on and how nasty Dean was to him as a way to deflect the serious guilt he had over his actions. He remembered Cas becoming an angel again and leading an army of angels against Metatron. He remembered Cas destroying Metatron’s reputation and the scribe being locked in Heaven’s jail for all eternity. While Cas didn’t have his own grace, he kept his renewed one and headed back to Earth with the Winchesters. He began to hunt with them, at peace to just tag along with them. Dean remembered being  _ happy  _ about the news, despite the guilt he still felt over his own actions. He felt happy knowing his friend still wanted to be  _ their friend,  _ despite everything. 

 

Sam and his own timeline came back to him too. From Sam finding out about Ezekiel-who-was-actually-an-evil-angel-named-Gadreel to leaving Dean to hunt solo. He remembered them slowly building back up their relationship and Dean realising he almost risked his relationship with his brother and with his best friend, all over one simple selfish mistake. 

 

As more flooded back to him, he realised how quicker they were popping into his head. He also realised how clearer the memories were, as if they had only just happened. From teasing Cas in the Impala to sharing a late night beer with Sam. Slowly they started to build, more and more memories all flooding in at once, catapulting onto Dean. He began to connect a billion dots, one by one up until everything just _clicked_. As if someone had snapped their fingers, everything pieced together into Dean’s mind like the puzzle was finally solved.

 

Fuck. He couldn’t help but think. Fuck, FUCK.

 

He was dead. He had to be. 

 

He remembered the last case he went on with Sam and Cas, with the witch and the comatose patients. He remembered the warehouse, Cas yelling for him and the feeling of pain as everything faded to black. How all he could see was black apart from the memories that seemed to come and go as they pleased. He remembered everything and knew that he most likely had to be dead… there was no doubt to it. Or at least he was in some sort of coma that there was no way of escaping from, if the previous victims had anything to say about it. He was trapped and he knew that he was likely never going to see Sam and Cas again. 

 

Slowly, the darkness began to fade and a bright light began to form. Dean knew what this meant… he was going to Heaven. He was dying and he was going to Heaven, without being able to say goodbye. He wouldn’t be able to tell Sammy that he loved him and to take care of the Impala for him. Wouldn’t be able to tell Cas sorry, to tell him the truth about everything and how badly he messed up. Wouldn’t be able to see Charlie or Jody again, neither Garth or any other of their hunter friends. 

 

The light pulled and while Dean attempted to fight it, he felt himself being dragged into it as if it were some sort of powerful vacuum. 

 

He was dying.

 

This was it. 

 

The end.

  
  


**_Cas._ **

 

Cas lead Charlie inside to Sam, who was still sitting in the kitchen. Upon seeing Charlie, he leapt up from his seat and pulled her into a hug.

 

“What are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come.”

 

Charlie smirked. “Well if I didn’t come, then we wouldn’t able to cure Dean… would we?”

 

Sam’s eyes widened. 

 

“You found a cure?”

 

“Like I was just telling Cas, yeah… I did.” 

 

They both watched as Charlie reached into her bag and pulled out a heavy, black leather bound book.

 

“This is the book of ' _ magia magnum atque intericitur’  _ or the book of ‘great magic and horrors’. After researching and asking around, I found out that this is one of the oldest books in coven history. While some are older, such as one called the Book of the Damned or something? This one is the oldest one written in Latin.”

 

She flipped open to a page.

 

“I went to Wisconsin found a local witch, a white witch. She hated the local coven because they sourced dark magic. But she told me how they were powerful, too powerful for her to even comprehend. She tried to stay out of their path because she didn’t want to risk getting hurt by them. She told me about this book and said that if there was anything to break the curse on Dean, it would be whatever was in here. She said this is their most sacred book… which was why it was annoying to steal from them.”

 

_ “Charlie.”  _ Sam groaned. “You seriously could have gotten yourself killed.”

 

Charlie shrugged. “I know… I knew that risk going in there. Yet… this is  _ Dean  _ we’re talking about. Of course I would of walked straight into a coven if it meant saving him. I wasn’t just going to give up.”

 

Cas couldn’t help but smile slightly. He understood why Charlie was so important to the Winchesters, because she too cared about them deeply. 

 

“I read through and thanks to my friend google translate, I was able to find this spell.” She said pointing to the page. “From what I can tell, it’s for breaking the curse that Dean has.”

 

Cas gestured to the book, asking if he could have a look at it. Charlie nodded and slid it over to him. He began to read and only needed to read the first few sentences to know that Charlie was right. This was definitely the right spell for Dean. He nodded at them both.

 

“The white witch told me that the reason the spell didn’t stop when the witch died was because it’s a lifeform spell.” Charlie explained. “Only some of the most powerful witches can perform lifeform spells. They’re spells where the hex latches onto you and stays alive because it’s host is alive. Like a parasite of some sort.” 

 

She looked down at the paper. “From reading this, it said that if you can sever the hex from one lifeform than it should be severed from all.”

 

Cas furrowed his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means…” Sam said with a small smile. “That if we break the curse for Dean, then it should break the curse for the other victims.” 

 

With hope and determination, the three of them headed to the infirmary to prepare the materials. They got the easier ones out of the way - hot water, black pepper, rosemary and salt. Thought as it came to the last four ingredients. Charlie sighed. 

 

“These ones… these ones are harder.” She said.

 

“What are they?”

 

“Well first… the blood of an elder witch… check.” 

 

They both watched as Charlie pulled a bottle of dark red liquid from her jean pockets, shaking it in their direction.  

 

Sam sighed.  _ “Charlie.” _

 

She threw her hands up. “What! One of the elder witches happened to track me down after I stole the book. Of course, this was already  _ after  _ I had google translated the ingredients. It was swift and quick, just like you and Dean taught me.”

 

Sam continued to scowl at her, but decided not to prod her any further.

 

“We also need… the bone of a lamb, the hair of a victim and the heart of a witch.”

 

Sam nodded, seemingly not fazed by Charlie’s words. “Well we have the bone of a lamb somewhere over on the shelves over there. I will quickly run to the storage unit, I’m pretty sure the men of letters kept the heart of a witch at one point. I read it in their case files. Cas, while I go grab that, can you grab a piece of Dean’s hair and start the spell?”

 

Cas nodded, whereas Charlie groaned in disgust at the thought of them owning a heart in a jar. 

 

However, they rounded up the ingredients. Cas plucked a strand of Dean’s hair and put it into the bowl, along with all the other ingredients that he could. Charlie mashed and ground the small piece of bone while Sam ran out and came back with the heart, cutting it into pieces. Cas noticed Charlie seemed a bit queasy from that. 

 

They placed the bowl by Dean’s bedside and mixed all the ingredients. Cas then laid his hand over the top of the bowl, with his other hand resting on Dean’s forehead. It was then, that he decided to recite the latin and begin the process of the spell.

 

_ "In nomina patris mei, deum meum, et ipse ego voco super te, o creaturae a terra et aqua. Egredere, purga Dean omnia aliena mala, et veneficiis est usa est, et restituet eos ad pondus et salutem. Per voluntatem utimur, sic mote id esse.” _

 

He sprinkled some more black pepper and rosemary in, before lighting the bowl with a flame as he said the last incantation. 

 

_ "Ego gratias ago tibi, o creaturae terrae & aquae in nomine ipse meus deum et maiorum meorum. Et dimisit in domos tuas, non facere nocere tuo, et tunc redire, cum eorum cordibus fidele deliberanti cum libenter. Per voluntatem utimur, sic mote id esse.” _

 

After he said the last words, the flame died out immediately and Cas could feel a source of energy run through his veins into Dean. He watched as Dean jolted for a moment, almost as if he’d been electrocuted, before lying back still. 

 

They waited a few moments and when there was no sign of improvement, they decided to clean up the spell materials and wait by his beside. As they cleaned up, Cas could feel the nervous tension deep inside of him. He was worried that all this hope had been for nothing. That it wouldn’t work and it would be too late to do anything to save Dean. He felt that it was too good to be true, this one spell from Charlie. He thought that maybe the white witch just tricked her and gave her some fake spell in order to deceive her. 

 

Cas couldn’t help but continue to think:  _ Dean is going to die, Dean is going to die. _

 

They each pulled up a chair and waited by the bedside. First one hour passed and then two. He could see both Sam and Charlie getting restless, but mostly Sam. His friend looked like he was going to break down into tears at any moment, as the odds of the spell working became lower and lower. Cas was positive at that point that the spell wasn’t going to work and he was going to have to heed Death’s warning. That he was going to have to say goodbye.

 

Then, almost three hours after the spell… Cas noticed a change. He looked to Dean to see that he could now read him, even without touching him. He could see from where he was sitting that Dean’s muscles were fatigued and that his body was lacking sufficient nutrients. He could see that Dean’s body was attempting to heal itself after two weeks of not moving. It was something he hadn’t been able to see for so long.

 

He sat straight up, eyes wide as he looked at the sleeping figure. “Guys, something is happening.”

 

He watched as Charlie and Sam sat up from their slouched positions, expressions wary and attentive as they all watched Dean like a hawk.

 

One second passed. Then two.

 

Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight.

 

Then on the ninth second… Dean opened his eyes.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Teeth-rotting fluff. Contact your dentists, folks.

**Two Weeks Later**

 

**_Cas._ **

 

From the moment Dean opened his eyes, the main priority of Sam, Cas and Charlie was his recovery. 

 

While the curse had been broken, meaning Cas could physically heal Dean’s deteriorated muscles, bones and nutrition -- his abilities couldn’t magically mend the mental fatigue and trauma his mind had been through trying to rebuild itself from nothing. While Dean appeared to remember them, remember everything… he fell into a deep hole for a few days which none of them could pull him out of. 

 

He couldn’t eat for a while, so he had to continue on the IV bags. He stayed in his bedroom, blasting Led Zeppelin and Metallica up at full volume. Despite the fact that Charlie was there with her humour and Sam there with his comforting presence… and Cas… well despite the fact that Cas was just  _ there,  _ Dean still didn’t feel up to doing anything but sleeping or staring expressionless.

 

However, a week passed and eventually Dean started to return more to normal. While Sam helped him to try and eat and Charlie kept him entertained, Cas kept his distance. He felt almost scared to see Dean, scared that the Winchester wouldn’t want to see him. Death had been right when he had talked to Cas. He’d never said anything to Dean about his feelings because he’d always been afraid… afraid of rejection. 

 

Eventually nearly two weeks had passed when Sam happily told him Dean was now eating solid foods, in a way reminiscent of a young mother with her infant child. By this point Charlie had gone out on a hunt as the Winchesters being out of commission meant other hunters had to pick up the slack. Jody dropped by at one point and said a quick hello to Dean, leaving a nice bottle of scotch as a present for when Dean was feeling better. Garth mailed over a pack of beef jerky and a handwritten card telling Dean to  _ feel better soon!  _ The music quieted down and a couple of times, Cas heard Dean laughing through the walls of the bunker.

 

Yet, he was still avoiding him and he didn’t know why. He figured he’d wait until he knew Dean was feeling 100% and when he knew that Dean wanted to see him.

 

However just over two weeks after Dean woke up, the opportunity arose. 

 

Cas was sitting in the map room reading, when someone cleared their throat. He looked up to see Sam sending him a large, knowing grin. 

 

“The royal highness has requested to see you.” And when he saw Cas’ blank look, he sighed. “Dean… Dean has asked to see you.”

 

Cas gulped but nodded. Sam left the room, heading somewhere else in the bunker. With a sigh, Cas got out of his seat and headed towards Dean’s room. He softly knocked on the door and waited until he heard Dean’s hoarse voice call out: “Come in!” before he entered. 

 

He hadn’t seen Dean in at least a week, but the Winchester was definitely looking better than when Cas had last seen him. The bags from his restless nights were no longer there, his facial hair had been shaved and his eyes seemed to have more of a light to him. Upon seeing Cas in the doorway, he grinned big and bright in his direction. Cas had to take a moment to be able to speak.

 

“Uh… hello Dean.” He greeted. Dean continued to smile.

 

“Hey Cas.”

 

Dean was sitting up in bed, dressed in a flannel and sweatpants. The small TV in the corner of his room was playing some day time television, but the reception in the bunker had always been quite subpar. 

 

“You wanted to see me?”

 

“Yeah, take a seat Cas.”

 

Dean indicated to his desk chair. Cas looked at it and then back at Dean, before hesitantly sinking down into it. It was silent for a few seconds, before Dean decided to be the one to speak.

 

“So… you’ve been avoiding me.”

 

Cas wanted to pretend like that wasn’t the case and he opened his mouth to refute it. However, all Dean had to do was raise one eyebrow and Cas backed down. Dean let out a small laugh and continued speaking.

 

“I didn’t call you in here to ask you about why… I asked you to come here because… I wanted to say sorry.”

 

Cas looked at Dean with wide eyes, confusion and shock flooding through him.

 

“You’re sorry?  _ For what? _ ”

 

“A lot of things Cas.” He said. “The way I’ve treated you in the past… it hasn’t been fair on you. You’ve made mistakes… we both know that but so have I… and Sam. And sometimes the way I treat you doesn’t reflect the fact that you have made up for those mistakes and you are a changed person.”

 

“Dean… you don’t have to--”

 

Dean shook his head. “No Cas. I do.”

 

He shifted in the bed, wincing as tried to sit up a little further. Cas went to get up and help him, but Dean put his hand up to stop him.

 

“The witch’s curse it… it took away my memories. When I came to… I had no idea who I was or what I was. I was just this thing in a void with no memories whatsoever of my past. Slowly, they came back to me. Starting with remembering who I was and my past as a kid, to the past few years and all the shit we’ve gone through. Yet, even though I knew I was Dean… that my name was Dean Winchester. I didn’t really have a full sense of who I was you know? I just knew my name and that was it.”

 

Cas nodded. It made him remember back to the time he lost his own memories. When he woke up in the water with Daphne standing over him, confused. He remembered when Dean revealed to him that he was Cas, the friend that had betrayed him. At that time, before his memories reappeared, he had no idea who he truly was. All he knew was that he was just Cas… and that he was an angel. 

 

“It was strange and weird and confusing all wrapped up into one.” Dean continued. “Yet it as… it was informative. I was able me to look back on my own thoughts and feelings from like… a different point of view. A different perspective.”

 

“Take our friendship for example.” Dean said. “Looking back on my own memories, I was able to see the way I reacted and my own actions from a different side. I was able to see my past thoughts and feelings and realise that there was more to it then I had thought. Thoughts and feelings that… that if you’d asked me before Fort Wayne about… I would’ve thought you were nuts.”

 

Cas watched as Dean took a breath before forcing the smallest of smiles in Cas’ direction.

 

“As I’ve come to… as I’ve realised who I am… it’s taken me some time Cas. Time to think about what I witnessed when I was unconscious, time to figure out who I really, truly am. And the biggest thing I’ve realised? I’m a damn coward Cas. A fucking coward.”

 

“You’re not a --” Cas began to say but again, Dean stopped him.

 

“I am.” He replied firmly. “I was scared of admitting to myself everything, even if it was just the simplest of things. I was scared of ending up like mom, ending up like Jess. I was also scared of ending up like my dad or Sam. I don’t think I realised it for a long time that… that I had this anger towards love. I… I thought it made you weak, made you an easy target. I mean take Sammy for example, I do the stupidest shit for that kid. Because he’s my brother and I love him. And because of it, both him and I have died. Multiple times.”

 

Dean took another breath and Cas waited patiently.

 

“I… I think I fell in love with you a long time ago… but I was too scared to say anything.” Dean said in almost a whisper, averting his eyes from Cas. “I think I pretended that we were just friends, best friends. I pretended that it was  _ nothing _ . For a long time, I think I truly convinced myself it was. Yet looking back, looking at it from sort of a birds eye view… it wasn’t nothing. It really wasn’t. I was just running, just being the coward that I am. I pushed you away, I fought you… to the point I actually  _ hurt  _ you. When in reality I was afraid that I was going to hurt myself… admitting to everything.”

 

He took another breath.

 

“But I’m tired of running Cas. I’m so damn tired. So…”

 

Cas watched as Dean closed his eyes and clenched his fists, almost as if he were trying to steady himself. He then watched as Dean opened his eyes and locked eyes with Cas, determination in his gaze.

 

“I love you Cas.”

 

Cas couldn’t help but smile. “I know.”

 

Dean laughed at the reference, even though Cas’ words were speaking the truth. Cas got up and moved himself so he was sitting next to Dean on his bed, with his hand gently on Dean’s leg.

 

“It took me awhile to realise I was afraid also.” He began. “I realised I was in love with you long ago as well, my feelings for you plain and obvious. It begun back before the rising of Lucifer. I remember staring at you in Heaven, the way you were so angry at me and at Zachariah. I remember hating that feeling and the guilt that came with it. I remember realising that I wanted nothing more than to save you, protect you. It was then that I realised that I had fallen and that I no longer wanted to play by Heaven’s rules… not when you were suffering in the process.”

 

He leaned in a little closer, looking at Dean so that he could see the pale green of his eyes.

 

“I was afraid to say anything. It was too soon and as time went on, I got more and more reluctant to speak up. I was afraid of pushing you too hard, considering you were too scared yourself to admit to your own feelings. I was also afraid of pushing myself too hard, to admit to myself that I had fallen for a human. Yet, you being comatose and on the brink of death made me realise that… that your life is too short for me to be afraid. I could of lost you, without being able to mention a word of this to you. I could of lost you without being able to truly say goodbye.”

 

He gave Dean’s leg a quick squeeze before flashing him a small smile.

 

“So… I love you too Dean.”

 

Dean grinned. “I know.”

 

The two of them chuckled quietly to themselves before locking eyes again. It took a moment for Cas to realise that he’d begun to move forward slightly, leaning his head towards Dean. Dean was doing the same, his eyes wide and swarming with emotions. Once their faces were only inches apart, Cas quirked his eyebrow slightly as if to ask Dean:  _ Are you sure? _

 

Dean let out a shaky breath before nodding his head quickly. That was when Cas took his chance and connected their lips together. Cas didn’t know what to think at first, his mind beginning to go haywire as he attempted to process that the moment was finally happening. Their lips moulded together softly, gently… as tender as butterfly wings. Cas could feel the flutter of Dean’s warm breath against his skin and the goosebumps it gave him. He wanted nothing more than to pull Dean close and keep him there forever. He knew he wasn’t a human, that it was only his vessel. But Dean made him  _ feel _ . In his arms, he felt more alive than ever before.

 

Their touch was only brief and Cas couldn’t help but pull away, knowing that although Dean had admitted to everything now -- he didn’t want to push him too far so early in their relationship.

 

As Cas sat back, Dean began to yawn obviously still tired from everything that had happened to his body. Cas couldn’t help but smile and run a hand through Dean’s slightly long hair, before pulling away.

 

“Get some rest. You need your sleep.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah I will Mr.  _ I don’t need sleep because I’m an angel. _ ”

 

Cas just huffed a small laugh and got up off the bed, walking away and towards the door. However, he stopped in the doorway when Dean called his name.

 

“Yes Dean?” He said turning to face him.

 

Dean had a smile on his face, a small one that looked as if it was only reserved for Cas himself.

 

“I just wanted to tell you… I’m not so scared anymore.”

 

Cas felt his lips quirk up in response.

 

“Neither am I.”

 

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